Chapter 32
In the dimly lit office of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the atmosphere was thick with tension and disbelief. The circular room, usually filled with the soft glow of enchanted instruments, felt heavy with the weight of troubling news. Dumbledore sat at his expansive desk, his piercing blue eyes scanning the faces of those gathered before him: Ted Tonks, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and James Potter. All of them were key players in the ongoing battle against the darkness creeping into their world.
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Dumbledore began, his voice steady yet grave. “Ted, please share with them what you told me.”
Ted, a young man with tousled hair and earnest eyes, took a deep breath. “I was visiting a Muggle hospital for my mother. While I was there, I saw Rabastan Lestrange,” he reported, the name hanging in the air like a death knell.
Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got to be joking, Tonks. A pureblood like him at a Muggle hospital? What’s next, Death Eaters in the grocery store?”
“No, I’m serious!” Ted insisted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “At first, he said his wife, Petunia, was sick. I didn’t believe him, but then she showed up. She was… intimidating. I mean, she has no magic, but Merlin, she could cut you down with her words.”
Lily Evans, sitting quietly until now, leaned forward, her brow furrowed with concern. “What happened next? Did she do something to you?”
Ted winced at the memory. “She belittled me. Made me feel like I was dirt beneath her shoes. It’s as if she’s a pureblood herself, just because of her attitude.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “I felt so small.”
Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “Sounds like my lovely cousin Bellatrix has found herself a new project in that Muggle.”
Moody, the infamous Auror, leaned in closer. “Did you see anything else? Anything that might suggest what they were up to?”
“No,” Ted said, shaking his head. “But when they left, the nurses were carrying bags to their car. I couldn’t see inside, but it made me uneasy. Knowing how Voldemort’s followers operate, I’m convinced they’re plotting something.”
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Indeed. I’ve seen her arrogance firsthand. She is a danger to us all.”
James, usually the light-hearted one, was now brimming with anger. “Where on earth did Minister fudge find her? Surely they couldn’t have just picked her off the streets.”
“Apparently, she was a waitress at a Muggle diner,” Peter chimed in, half-laughing but also incredulous. “Imagine that, the Muggle wife of a Death Eater, serving up burgers and fries.”
“Ah, the irony,” Sirius laughed. “A waitress who’s now consorting with Dark families. Imagine that!”
At that moment, Hagrid entered the room, his giant frame barely fitting through the door. He looked at Dumbledore, concern etched on his face. “You alright, Headmaster? You look like a troll’s used you for a punching bag.”
Dumbledore waved a hand, dismissing the question for the moment. “Hagrid, we’re discussing Madame Lestrange. Have you heard any rumors about her?”
Eugene, Newt Scamander’s colleague, shifted uneasily. “I heard about Rabastan being forced into marriage. They say she’s beautiful,” he said, not realizing the storm he was about to unleash.
Lily’s jaw tightened. Beauty? Evil, more like. “Don’t be fooled, Eugene,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “That woman is pure evil underneath the surface.”
Eugene blinked, taken aback by her vehemence. “Evil? Blimey, you’ve really got a bad impression of her, haven’t you? What’s she look like, anyway? Been too busy wrangling Nifflers to pick up the Prophet lately.”
Dumbledore, with a flick of his wand, conjured a Pensieve memory and gestured for Eugene to look. The shimmering surface swirled, and an image solidified – a woman with striking blonde hair pulled back severely, and eyes of the deepest, coldest sapphire blue. She was speaking, her voice sharp and cutting, though the words were muted in the Pensieve.
Eugene stared, his mouth falling open. He recoiled from the Pensieve as if burned. “You’re… you’re kidding me, right? That… that can’t be Petunia Lestrange. That’s… that’s impossible.”
Sirius, ever impatient, rolled his eyes. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, Scamander? Seen a boggart that looks like your granny?”
Eugene shook his head frantically. “No, Sirius, you don’t understand. That’s… that’s Noel Umbridge. Well, I think that was her last name. Noel. She was living in Hogsmeade Village just a few weeks ago. Lived with Dolores Umbridge. Everyone in the village knew she was a Muggle. Rumours were she was Dolores’s cousin or something.”
Hagrid scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Eh, Newt’s grandson’s right. Seen ‘er meself in Hogsmeade, Noel. Quiet sort, kept to herself mostly. Some of the older Hogwarts lads were mooning after her something fierce though. Never would have thought she was Lestrange’s wife! Blimey!”
Dumbledore’s eyes, which had been narrowed in thought, suddenly widened with alarm. He slammed his fist on his polished desk, the sound echoing through the room. “WHAT?” he roared, startling everyone in the office. “You’re telling me that… that nuisance, that pain in the neck Muggle was in Hogsmeade? Living with… Dolores Umbridge? Merlin’s beard!” He paced behind his desk, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. “What’s next? Is she going to ally the rest of the dark families over tea and biscuits and build an army of Death Eaters?!”
As if summoned by his dramatic pronouncements, the flames in the fireplace roared, and Arthur Weasley stepped out, his face pale and strained. “Headmaster Dumbledore,” he gasped, out of breath. “We have a problem at the Ministry. The… the dark families… they’re all taking leave. Leaving their Governing duties.”
Dumbledore stopped pacing, his eyes widening further. “Leave? What reason did they give, Arthur? What excuse for abandoning their governing duties?”
Arthur swallowed, his voice barely a whisper. “They said… they said they were attending a tea party. With the new Madame Lestrange.”
"WHAT?! SHE’S HAVING TEA WITH THE DARK FAMILIES?!" Dumbledore roared, a sound that shook the very foundations of the office. Then his voice now dangerously low. "Arthur, explain yourself. What did they say exactly?"
Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his ears turning a shade of purple that matched his threadbare robes. "Well that’s the excuse they gave us Headmaster, it started with the Malfoys. Lucius sent a very polite owl, practically dripping with insincere apologies. 'Unforeseen family matters,' he wrote, 'requiring their immediate and indefinite absence from Ministry obligations.' Then the Notts, the Crabbes, Goyle, even Parkinson – a whole flock of owls arrived within minutes of each other, all echoing the same sentiment. Family matters, urgent business, needing to attend to… the new Mrs. Lestrange."
Sirius’s laughter abruptly died in his throat. "Wait a minute," he said, his grey eyes narrowing. "Are you saying…all those families are suddenly running off to socialize with Rabastan Lestrange’s Muggle wife? That’s insane! They wouldn’t give a Muggle the crumbs off their table, let alone dedicate their precious ‘family time’ to her."
"Exactly!" Moody growled, his magical eye whirring around, landing on each of them in turn. "It’s a bloody smokescreen! 'Teatime' my backside. They're gathering. Consolidating power. And this Muggle… this Madame Lestrange… she's at the center of it."
Dumbledore was silent for a long moment, his blue eyes, usually twinkling with amusement, now clouded with a deep worry. He paced behind his desk, his long fingers stroking his beard as if seeking answers within its snowy strands. "Hogsmeade," he murmured, "Dolores Umbridge… and ‘Noel Umbridge’… It's… unlikely to be a coincidence."
Eugene, who had been pale, now looked positively green. "Dolores Umbridge," he stammered. "She… she’s not… well, she’s not known for her… 'progressive' views on Muggles, Headmaster. Quite the opposite, in fact. And Noel… Noel was always quiet, kept to herself, but… there was something about her… an air of… authority. Even in the pub, she seemed… in charge. But I just thought she was… well-connected through Dolores."
Hagrid nodded, his brow furrowed. "Aye, Noel was always polite enough, if a bit quiet. Seemed to keep Dolores in line, mind you. Always thought it was funny, Dolores Umbridge bein' bossed around by a Muggle."
Dumbledore couldn’t believe it. A Muggle, not just any Muggle, but this Muggle, was not only humiliating him, but seemingly gathering the Dark families to her side. He had no idea what she was planning, how a seemingly powerless Muggle could wield such influence.
He straightened, his eyes blazing with renewed urgency. “Listen, we need more information. We need to know everything about this ‘tea party’ at Malfoy Manor.”
The office door swung open, revealing Severus Snape, his black robes billowing behind him like a shroud. He surveyed the room, his gaze lingering with malicious amusement on the Marauders and Lily. A slow, sardonic chuckle escaped his lips. “My, oh my, oh my. If it isn’t the famous Marauders. How was your encounter with Madame Lestrange?” He eyed the faint scars still visible on James’s face, and Sirius’s . “Perhaps another round of Muggle humiliation is in order?”
Remus Lupin, his voice weary, spoke up, “Snape, we don’t want any trouble. We just…”
Snape cut him off with a sneer. “Trouble? My dear Lupin, you misunderstand. I am not here to cause trouble. I am merely here… to observe. To witness the spectacle of Gryffindor heroes reduced to quivering wrecks by a mere Muggle. Oh, how I wish I’d attended that wedding. To see you fools subjected to a Muggle's wrath, forced to acknowledge your own… insignificance. The irony, Potter, Black, utterly delicious.”
Potter and Black bristled, anger flashing in their eyes. James stepped forward, fists clenched. “Shut up, Snape. What are you doing here anyway? This is a private meeting. You're not welcome.”
Snape drawled, lifting a delicate eyebrow. “On the contrary, Black, it does concern me. Because I too, have received an invitation to this… tea party. Isn’t it wonderful, Lily, to see such social bridges being built?” He mocked, his gaze lingering on Lily, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes. Then, he declared with a chilling certainty, “I intend to attend, and to support Madame Lestrange in whatever… endeavors… she may be planning.”
Dumbledore, who had been trying to regain control of the escalating situation, finally snapped. “Severus!” His voice was raw with outrage and a dawning sense of dread. The sheer audacity of Snape, openly siding with… that woman. He was beginning to grasp the terrifying, absurd reality of the situation. A Muggle waitress, a cousin of Dolores Umbridge, was not only outsmarting them, she was somehow, impossibly, gaining power, gathering allies, and turning the wizarding world on its head, one perfectly brewed cup of Earl Grey at a time.