Heart and Soull

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Of course, it completely escaped Fudge's attention that Malfoy really did not need Fudge at all—Malfoy's Pureblood friends on the Wizengamot were able to introduce his proposed laws and actions without the assistance of the Minister if he so chose. If Fudge had ever thought to look into the matter, he would have noticed that many of the actions which he sponsored were defeated, and he would have come to the conclusion that often he was used as a decoy.

Or perhaps Fudge would not have cared even then—his primary concern, of course, had always been the money which made its way from Malfoy's vault into his own. Whether Malfoy succeeded or not really meant nothing to the Minister—all that mattered to Fudge was that he was paid well for what he did.

On this day, however, Fudge felt his popularity had fallen into an abyss, what with his failed persecution of young Harry Potter. It was a valuable lesson to learn—before taking on one of the nation's greatest heroes, you needed to make certain you had an airtight case. Especially when said hero was being supported by another.

That Dumbledore had staged the entire session with that despicable French wizard was beyond contradiction in Fudge's opinion. And worse, Fudge felt it was all calculated to make him look as bad as they possibly could—and in that endeavor, they had succeeded in spades.

What bothered Fudge was that he was uncertain of just what Dumbledore's aims were. Was he merely trying to get the Potter brat off, or was he aiming for something more? Had he designs on the Minister's office for himself or one of his cronies? The fact that the Minister's office had been Dumbledore's for the taking when Bagnold resigned (if he'd only declared his candidacy rather than refusing due to lack of interest and contentment with his current positions) did not occur to the Minister.

No, Fudge was certain that Dumbledore was up to something and that whatever it was, it could not be beneficial for Fudge's long-term residence in the Minister's office.

Two can play that game! Fudge snarled to himself.

It was time to fight back.

"Minister? Minister, did you hear me?"

Fudge blinked and focused his eyes. Across his desk sat the annoying pink woman whose grating high-pitched voice had interrupted his ruminations. Umbridge was a menace, but he had promoted her for one reason only—she blindly fell in with whatever schemes he promoted, if only to further her own agenda of bigotry and hate, something which although Fudge did not espouse, he had no particular disliking for either. Unfortunately, despite her usefulness, he could only take her in small doses, as her voice was aggravating and her constant harping was not especially conducive to his own agenda of enriching himself.

"I'm sorry, Madam Undersecretary—I'm afraid my mind wandered for a moment. What were you saying?"

She gave Fudge an imperious glare. "I had finished my report on the plans for my time at Hogwarts, Minister. But I believe I may have a plan to deal with the Delacour girl before the next school year starts."

Privately, Fudge doubted she could do anything to influence the Veela's attendance in any way, but he had not stayed in power as long as he had by ignoring the schemes of his underlings. He motioned for her to continue, nodding thoughtfully and responding in monosyllables when she seemed to be expecting it.

All in all, it was something which might have succeeded if it had been thought of several months before. In the current environment, though, Fudge was certain she would have difficulty pulling it off—Dumbledore would crush her without a second thought.

Yet anything which diverted Dumbledore's attention was welcome in Fudge's opinion. For him, the main thrust was her installment at Hogwarts as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and the slow and careful way in which he would have her take over the school… that would have to be handled with delicacy. The fact that Umbridge had no true mastery of the subject and had indeed been an indifferent and pampered student at best when she had attended did not even enter into the equation in Fudge's eyes. Her use to him in the school was to find a way to have Dumbledore removed and to ensure Fudge was not challenged as Minister.

Of course, the scheme she had come up with to deal with this most vexing news of the Delacour girl's entrance into Hogwarts would be annoying for his opponents, although a little ham-fisted. He immediately threw his support behind her endeavors.

"Very well, Undersecretary, you have my permission to proceed," Fudge responded magnanimously. "Thank you for your time and efforts."

Umbridge's answering smile was most unpleasant, and Fudge shuddered as she scurried from the office. The woman made even him uncomfortable!

In the north of Britain, an old manor building stood. It was the old estate manor of some landowner long forgotten in the mists of time, a reminder of the way things had once been in the kingdom. The building was still standing and in relatively good shape, which was surprising considering the years of neglect and indifference it had suffered. If one looked closely enough, a hint of its former glory could still be seen in the chipped and cracked marble floors and in the faded and peeling wallpaper—it had obviously been the home of a family of some wealth and consequence.

Now, it was the home to people of a much less savory reputation. The newly reconstituted dark lord Tom Marvolo Riddle, or the self-styled Lord Voldemort, now made the old house his base of operations.

Voldemort was indifferent as to his surroundings or the state of the old house—if things had been different, he could just as easily have made the manor of his Riddle ancestors his home. Unfortunately, the escape of Harry Potter from the Little Hangleton cemetery and the house's proximity to the site of his rising meant the location was now compromised, necessitating his removal and relocation. It was an irritant, no more, no less, and the dark lord knew there were better things with which to concern himself than creature comforts and the location of his lair. Soon, the British wizarding world would be his once again, and locations such as this crumbling, ramshackle old building would mean nothing to him.

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