Lunch had been in full swing for a while now, and several Order members who'd been present at Harry's arrival had left by now.
The kitchen table groaned under the weight of Molly's lunch. The scent of roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables swimming in butter, and freshly baked rolls filled the air.
"So Percy was there?" Ron asked around a mouthful of chicken, his expression darkening. "That git."
"Ronald, don't talk with your mouth full," Molly said automatically, her hands trembling slightly as she passed the bread basket.
"He was taking notes," Harry confirmed, reaching for more potatoes. "Sitting there with this smug look on his face like he was doing something important."
Fred and George exchanged identical looks of disgust.
"Always knew Percy fancied himself above the rest of us," Fred muttered.
"But working for Fudge?" George continued. "Helping them go after Harry? That's low even for him."
"He's made his choice," Ginny said quietly, pushing peas around her plate. Her voice was tight with suppressed anger. "Chose his precious Ministry career over his own family."
Molly's spoon clattered against her bowl. The sound seemed unnaturally loud in the suddenly tense kitchen. She didn't say anything, just stared down at her lunch with her jaw clenched tight. Arthur reached over and squeezed her hand gently.
"Right then," Sirius said, clearly trying to change the subject. "What about Dumbledore? You said he was there?"
Harry swallowed his bite of chicken before answering. "Yeah, he showed up at the end. Stood in the corridor near the lifts after I was cleared. Looked right past me like I wasn't even there, then left without saying a word."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
"That's bollocks," Ginny said flatly. "He should've been there supporting you the whole time, not just showing up at the end."
"Maybe he had his reasons," Hermione said quickly, her voice a bit too defensive. "He's been very busy with Order business, and maybe he thought it was better for Harry to handle it himself without the Headmaster's presence influencing the vote."
Harry set down his fork with more force than necessary and fixed Hermione with a level stare. She met his eyes for a moment, her expression determined, before something in his gaze made her look away. She returned to cutting her chicken into increasingly smaller pieces, her cheeks flushed.
The silence stretched uncomfortably.
"I think," Remus said carefully from his position near the window, "that Dumbledore believes distance is protection. He's trying to keep Harry safe by keeping him at arm's length."
"How's that working out?" Tonks asked dryly. She was leaning against the counter, her hair a cheerful bubblegum pink that seemed at odds with the serious conversation. "Pretty sure two Dementors attacking someone counts as the opposite of safe."
"And that's exactly my point," Sirius said, his voice hard. "All this secrecy and keeping Harry in the dark, and for what? He still got attacked. He still ended up in front of the entire bloody Wizengamot."
"Dumbledore's methods have always been rather opaque," Arthur said diplomatically. "But I do believe he has Harry's best interests at heart."
Harry didn't respond to that. He wasn't sure what he believed anymore when it came to Dumbledore. The man who'd been such a constant presence in his life for four years had suddenly become a stranger. Maybe he'd always been one and Harry was only just now seeing it clearly.
"Speaking of the Ministry," Arthur continued, clearly eager to move past the uncomfortable topic, "there's something you all should know. Something that's been in the works for a while now."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"There's an Educational Decree being drafted," Arthur said, his expression troubled. "Number Twenty-Two. It gives the Minister the authority to appoint a Hogwarts professor if the Headmaster is unable to find a suitable candidate within a specified timeframe."
"What?" Hermione's voice was sharp. "That's a complete overreach of Ministry authority. Hogwarts has always maintained its independence in staffing decisions."
"Not anymore," Arthur said grimly. "The decree is set to pass within the week. Fudge has been pushing it through with the backing of the Board of Governors."
"Let me guess," Harry said, a bitter taste in his mouth. "This is because Dumbledore still hasn't found a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Got it in one," Arthur confirmed. "The decree states that if a suitable candidate isn't found within two weeks of term starting, the Ministry reserves the right to appoint someone themselves."
"That's mental," Ron said. "They're basically admitting they want to put a Ministry plant inside Hogwarts."
"It's worse than that," Hermione said, her analytical mind clearly working through the implications. "If they can appoint one professor, what's to stop them from expanding that authority? This could be the first step in taking control of the entire school."
"Exactly," Arthur said. "Fudge is terrified of Dumbledore. This hearing today proved that the Wizengamot isn't entirely in his pocket. He needs to see he has power, which means he has to undermine Dumbledore's influence, and controlling Hogwarts is a good place to start."
"Who do you think they'd appoint?" Remus asked.
"Someone loyal to Fudge," Sirius said darkly. "Someone who'll spy on Dumbledore and the students. Report back anything remotely suspicious."
Harry thought of Umbridge's simpering smile and felt his appetite vanish. "It'll be her," he said quietly. "That Umbridge woman. The one who was at the trial."
The adults exchanged uncomfortable looks.
"You might be right," Arthur admitted. "She's Fudge's Senior Undersecretary. Completely devoted to him. And she's made it clear she thinks Dumbledore is a threat."
"This is wonderful," Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not only do I have to worry about Voldemort, but now I'll have a Ministry spy teaching my Defence class."
Several people flinched at the name, but Harry was past caring about that particular superstition.
"We don't know for sure it'll be her," Hermione said, though she didn't sound convinced.
"Who else would it be?" Tonks asked. "If they want someone to keep tabs on Dumbledore and the students, she seems like the obvious choice. Plus she must hate Harry after what happened at the trial. Don't forget how she kept trying to frame Harry throughout the trial."
"Sounds like a right bitch."
"Language, Ginny," Molly said automatically, but her heart wasn't in it. She'd been growing increasingly pale throughout the conversation, her eyes distant.
"This is getting out of hand," Fred said seriously, which was alarming in itself. Fred was rarely serious about anything. "First they try to railroad Harry, now they're taking over Hogwarts. What's next?"
"Whatever they think they can get away with," Arthur said quietly.
Molly stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "That's quite enough," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "This is all very distressing and I won't have it discussed at the lunch table anymore."
She looked around the table, her eyes landing on Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins. "You five. Out. Now. This is Order business and you're not members."
"Mum," Fred started to protest.
"We're of age," George added. "We have every right to—"
"I don't care if you're of age," Molly snapped, her composure cracking. "You're my sons and I won't have you involved in this. Out. All of you. Now."
The twins looked like they wanted to argue further, but something in their mother's expression stopped them. It wasn't just anger or overprotectiveness. It was fear and grief, barely contained. The mention of Percy had clearly affected her more than she wanted to admit.
Ron opened his mouth, caught sight of his mother's face, and closed it again. He stood without a word and headed for the door. Hermione followed, casting an apologetic look at the adults. Ginny went next, her jaw set stubbornly but her steps obedient.
Fred and George were the last to move. They exchanged one more look with each other before standing in unison.
"This isn't over," Fred said quietly as they passed their mother.
"We're not children anymore," George added.
Molly didn't respond. She watched them file out of the kitchen, her shoulders rigid and her hands clenched at her sides. When the door closed behind them, she seemed to deflate slightly.
"I know they're growing up," she said to no one in particular. "I know they need to make their own choices. But I've already lost one son to this madness. I won't lose any more."
The silence that followed was heavy with sympathy and understanding. Even Sirius, who'd been arguing for including the younger members more, looked at Molly with compassion.
Arthur stood and wrapped his arms around his wife. She leaned into him, her face hidden against his shoulder. Nobody said anything. There wasn't really anything to say.
XXXXX
Four days later, Harry woke alone to sunlight streaming through the dusty windows.
His birthday had never been much of an occasion. The Dursleys had made sure of that. But the past few years at Hogwarts had shown him what it could be like to have people who actually cared enough to celebrate. This year felt different though. Quieter. More subdued.
The war wasn't official yet, not in the public eye, but everyone in this house knew the truth. Voldemort was back. People were going to die. Celebrating seemed almost frivolous in the face of that.
Still, when Harry made his way downstairs for breakfast, he found the kitchen decorated with streamers in red and gold. A small pile of presents sat on the table, and the smell of Mrs. Weasley's delicacies filled the air.
"Happy birthday, Harry," Sirius said, pulling him into a quick hug. His godfather looked better than he had since he'd arrived here, more of the gauntness gone from his face. Being able to do something, anything, even if it was just hosting Order meetings, seemed to agree with him.
"Thanks," Harry said, feeling awkward but pleased.
The morning passed in a pleasant blur. Breakfast was good, the company better. Ron had gotten him a book about advanced Quidditch tactics. Hermione gave him a practice wand kit for quick draw. The twins presented him with a box of their latest inventions with explicit instructions to use them on Slytherins. Ginny had made him a batch of treacle tart that actually looked edible. Even Remus had contributed a book on defensive magic that looked genuinely useful.
Sirius's gift was last. A beautiful watch with constellation markings around the face and hands that glowed faintly in the dim kitchen light.
"It was my uncle Alphard's," Sirius said quietly. "He was the only decent member of my family besides Andromeda. I want you to have it."
Harry swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "Sirius, I can't. This is a family heirloom."
"You are family," Sirius said firmly. "The only family that matters. Take it."
Harry did, carefully fastening it around his wrist. It fit perfectly, as though it had been made for him.
"It comes with a special feature, but I'll let you figure it out on your own," Sirius smiled.
Harry smiled at his godfather, beyond touched.
"Thanks, Sirius."
"One more," Tonks said suddenly, sliding a flat package across the table. Her hair was violet today, pulled back in a ponytail that made her look younger. "From me."
Harry picked up the package. It was wrapped in plain brown paper with his name written across it in Tonks's messy scrawl. He tore it open to find a photograph album, the kind that held pictures in transparent sleeves. The first few pages were already filled with photos. Him and Tonks during training sessions. Him laughing at something Sirius had said. Him and Ron playing wizard chess. Candid moments captured on film.
"Thought you might like having some good memories to look back on," Tonks said, her voice casual but her eyes warm. "Plenty of empty pages for more."
"It's perfect," Harry said honestly. "Thank you."
As he turned the album over in his hands, something small and white caught his eye. A tag, tucked into the back corner where the paper met the binding. So small that anyone not looking carefully would miss it entirely.
Harry's fingers found it, pulling it free as subtly as he could manage. The writing was tiny, barely legible, but it was unmistakably Tonks's handwriting.
Your real gift is waiting in the second floor guest room. Tonight. Don't be late.
The words shimmered and vanished as he read them, the tag dissolving into nothing between his fingers like it had never existed at all.
Harry looked up to find Tonks watching him with an expression of perfect innocence. Then, so quickly that he almost missed it, she winked. It wasn't a friendly wink or a conspiratorial one. It was slow and careful and absolutely filthy. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, her eyes never leaving his.
Heat flooded through Harry's body. His mouth went dry.
"Harry? You alright?" Ron asked from somewhere to his left.
"Fine," Harry managed, his voice only slightly strained. "Just thinking about how great all these gifts are."
Ginny said something to Tonks then, pulling her attention away. Tonks turned to respond, her demeanor shifting instantly to casual and friendly. But the ghost of that wink lingered in Harry's mind.
He could hardly wait for tonight.
XXXXX
The house was quiet when Harry finally slipped out of his room. He'd waited until he was sure everyone had gone to bed, and counting the minutes was agonizingly painful. The watch Sirius had given him read half past eleven. Late enough that the halls would be empty, early enough that he wouldn't be completely exhausted tomorrow.
He moved carefully through the darkened corridors, avoiding the creaky floorboards he'd memorized over the past week. His heart hammered against his ribs, anticipation making his skin feel too tight. The second floor was darker than the rest of the house, the windows here covered with particularly heavy curtains. Harry found the guest room Tonks had specified and reached for the doorknob.
The door flew open before he could touch it. A hand shot out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and yanked him inside with surprising strength. The door clicked shut behind him and then Tonks was on him, pressing him hard against the wood.
Her mouth found his with a hunger that made his knees weak. Harry responded instinctively, his hands coming up to grip her waist as she pressed every inch of herself against him. She tasted like sugar and wine and something darker, something that made his head spin and his pulse race. Her tongue slid against his, demanding and possessive, and Harry gave himself over to it completely.
"Been waiting," she breathed against his lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "All bloody day, watching you open presents and smile like a good boy while I wanted to drag you upstairs and—"
She bit his lower lip, not quite hard enough to hurt but enough to make him gasp. Her hips rolled against his and Harry felt himself responding immediately, heat flooding through his body.
"Had to wait for everyone to go to sleep," Harry managed, his voice already rough. His hands had moved to her hips, fingers digging into soft flesh through fabric that felt far too thin.
"Worth it though," Tonks said, finally pulling back enough for him to see her properly in the warm candlelight that filled the room.
Harry's breath caught in his throat. His brain stuttered to a complete halt.
She'd transformed herself for him. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders in deep violet waves that seemed to shimmer in the flickering light. But it was what she was wearing that made coherent thought impossible. Black lace that could barely be called clothing. It clung to her curves like a second skin, the material so sheer he could see the dusky peaks of her nipples through it, the shadow between her thighs. The lingerie had a deep plunge that left almost nothing to imagination, held together by delicate straps that looked like they'd snap with the slightest pressure.
"Happy birthday," she purred, her voice low and dripping with promise. She did a slow turn, letting him see everything. The lace barely covered her backside, just thin straps that disappeared between rounded cheeks. "Thought I'd give you something special. Something you'd remember."
"You're," Harry started, his mouth dry as desert sand. "You look—"
"Fuckable?" Tonks supplied with a wicked grin, pressing against him again. This time he felt every detail of her body through the flimsy fabric. The heat of her skin, the softness of her breasts crushed against his chest, and the way her hips fit perfectly against his obvious arousal. "That was rather the point, love."
Harry groaned, his hands sliding up her back. Her skin was like silk under his palms, warm and smooth and perfect. He felt the clasp of the lace beneath his fingers and the temptation to rip it off nearly overwhelmed him.
"The gift is me," Tonks murmured directly into his ear, her breath hot and making him shiver. "All night. Whatever you want. However you want it. I'm yours, Harry. Completely."
Her teeth caught his earlobe and Harry's hips jerked involuntarily. She laughed, low and throaty, clearly pleased with his reaction. Her hands were everywhere now, sliding under his shirt and exploring the planes of his chest and stomach. Her fingers traced the muscles he'd developed through training, nails scraping lightly enough to make his skin burn.
"Been thinking about this," Tonks continued, her lips trailing down his neck with open-mouthed kisses. "Thinking about all the ways I could make you feel good. All the things I could do to make this birthday one you'd never forget."
She sucked hard at the junction of his neck and shoulder, marking him, and Harry's head fell back against the door with a thud. Her hands found his belt, fingers working efficiently despite how intentionally slow her movements were. She was teasing him.
"Nym," he breathed, barely recognizing his own voice.
"Nymphadora," she corrected, pulling back to look at him with eyes that had gone dark with desire. The violet had deepened to almost black. "For tonight, you get to use it. Nobody else gets to, but you do. Say it."
"Nymphadora," Harry obeyed, and watched her eyes flutter closed like he'd physically touched her.
"Again," she demanded, her voice thick.
"Nymphadora."
"Merlin, yes." Her hands resumed their work and his jeans hit the floor with his boxers. The cool air of the room met heated skin and Harry hissed. Tonks looked down at him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "Look at you. All hard for me already."
Before Harry could form a response, she dropped to her knees in front of him gracefully. The sight of her there, looking up at him through thick lashes with that wicked smile, nearly finished him on the spot.
"Going to make you feel so good," she promised, her breath ghosting over his sensitive flesh. "Going to make this the best birthday you've ever had."
Her hand wrapped around his cock, warm and firm, and Harry's knees threatened to buckle. She stroked slowly, almost lazily, watching his face with intense focus like she was memorizing every expression.
"You're so responsive," she murmured appreciatively. "Love watching you come undone."
Then her mouth replaced her hand and Harry stopped thinking entirely.
She took her time. That was what made it almost unbearable. Tonks had never been particularly patient before, always eager and enthusiastic but quick to get to the main event. Tonight was different. Tonight she was methodical, learning exactly what made him gasp and what made him groan and what made his hands fist in her hair. Her mouth was hot and wet and absolutely perfect, taking him deep enough that he felt the back of her throat before pulling back slowly, teasing him.
The sounds she made went straight through him. Little hums of satisfaction, the wet slide of her lips, the occasional moan when he tugged her hair just right. She looked up at him while she worked, holding his gaze, and the visual combined with the physical sensation nearly destroyed him.
"Nymphadora," he gasped out, his hips moving despite his attempts to stay still. "I'm going to—"
She pulled back just enough to speak, her hand continuing the rhythm. "Not yet," she said firmly. "We're just getting started."
She released him completely and Harry actually whimpered at the loss. Tonks rose to her feet in one fluid motion, pressing her body against his again. He could feel her heat even through the lace, and he could feel how ready she was.
"Bed," she commanded, and Harry followed on unsteady legs.
The bed was large and covered in dark sheets that seemed to absorb the candlelight. Tonks pushed him down onto it and he went willingly, watching as she stood at the foot of the bed. She moved slowly, deliberately, her hands sliding up her own body in a display that was purely for his benefit.
"My turn to unwrap my present," she said, her fingers finding the hem of his shirt. "Fair's fair."
She pulled it over his head and tossed it carelessly aside. Then her hands were on his chest, tracing every line and curve with focused attention. Her touch was light, almost teasing, and it made him shiver despite the warmth of the room. She leaned down and pressed kisses across his collarbone, down his sternum, and even lower.
"You've gotten stronger," she murmured against his skin. "All this training we've been doing. You're going to become one magnificent wizard." Her tongue traced a line down his abs and Harry's muscles contracted involuntarily. "I definitely approve."
"Is that a complaint?" Harry managed, his voice strangled.
"Not even close," Tonks said, crawling up his body like a predator. Her hair fell around them in a curtain as she kissed him again, deep and thorough. The lace scratched deliciously against his bare skin and Harry's hands roamed her back, feeling the curve of her spine and the smooth expanse of skin.
He found the clasp of the lace and raised an eyebrow in question. Tonks grinned against his mouth, her eyes gleaming with mischief and heat.
"Go ahead," she whispered. "Unwrap me."
Harry's fingers worked the clasp and the fabric fell away. She sat up, straddling his hips, and let him look. The candlelight painted her skin in gold and shadow, highlighting the curve of her breasts, the dip of her waist, and the flare of her hips. She was beautiful. He'd seen her naked before but something about tonight made it feel like the first time all over again.
"You're staring," Tonks said, but her voice was pleased and a bit breathless.
"Can't help it."
"Good." She leaned down again, her bare breasts pressing against his chest, and the skin-on-skin contact made them both gasp. "Touch me, Harry. Anywhere you want."
His hands obeyed without conscious thought. He explored every inch of her he could reach, learning the texture of her skin, the places that made her sigh and the places that made her moan. When his fingers found her breasts, cupping their weight and brushing his thumbs over hardened peaks, she arched into his touch with a sharp intake of breath.
"Yes," she breathed. "Like that."
Harry sat up enough to take one nipple into his mouth and Tonks's hands flew to his hair, holding him there. He lavished attention on one breast and then the other, using his lips and tongue and the edge of his teeth until she was trembling above him.
"Harry," she gasped, and there was a note of desperation in her voice now. "I need—"
"Tell me," he said against her skin. "Tell me what you need."
"You," she said simply, rolling her hips against him. "Inside me. Now."
She positioned herself above him, her hand guiding him to her entrance. They locked eyes and Harry saw his own desire reflected back at him, magnified. Then she sank down onto him slowly, taking him inch by inch, her mouth falling open and a low moan escaping her.
"Merlin," Tonks breathed when he was fully sheathed inside her. "You feel so good. So perfect."
Harry's hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, his control hanging by the thinnest thread. She felt incredible. Hot and tight and wet around him, her inner walls clenching rhythmically.
She started to move and Harry's world narrowed to just this. Just her. The slide of skin on skin, the heat and pressure and overwhelming pleasure of it all. She set a rhythm that had him seeing stars, alternating between slow and deliberate rolls that had him feeling every inch, and fast desperate bouncing that made the bed creak beneath them.
Her hands braced on his chest as she rode him, nails digging into his skin. Her breasts bounced with every movement and Harry couldn't look away, mesmerized by the sight of her taking her pleasure from his body. Sweat made her skin gleam in the candlelight. Her hair had started to darken at the roots, shifting colors with her arousal like it always did when she lost control.
"Look at me," she demanded, and Harry's eyes snapped to hers. "Want you to watch me when I come."
"Nymphadora," he groaned, and she clenched around him at the sound of her name.
Her rhythm faltered, becoming erratic as sensation built too high. Harry could feel his own release approaching, coiling tight and hot in his belly. He wasn't going to last much longer. Not with the way she felt, the way she looked, and the sounds she was making.
"Touch me," she gasped, her hand grabbing his and guiding it between their bodies. "Right there. Please."
Harry's fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves and Tonks cried out, her head falling back as her movements became frantic. He rubbed circles there, matching the rhythm of her hips, and felt her getting closer. Her inner walls started fluttering around him, squeezing tight.
"Harry," she moaned. "Oh gods, Harry, I'm going to—"
"Come for me," he urged, his voice rough and barely recognizable. "Want to feel you come. Want to watch you fall apart."
That did it. Tonks shattered above him with a cry that she barely managed to muffle. Her body clenched around his rhythmically, pulsing with the waves of her climax. The sight of her lost in pleasure, the feel of her coming undone, pushed Harry over the edge and he followed with a groan that was definitely too loud for the quiet house.
His vision went white. Every muscle in his body tensed as he spilled inside her, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain washing through him. Tonks collapsed onto his chest, both of them gasping for air, their hearts hammering against each other.
They lay there in a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, neither willing to move. Harry's hands stroked up and down her back lazily, feeling her breathing gradually slow. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck, and then finally his lips. Soft and tender, completely different from the hungry kisses earlier.
"Happy birthday," she mumbled against his mouth.
"Best present ever," Harry agreed, his voice still rough and satisfied.
Tonks shifted slightly and they both hissed at the sensitivity. She rolled to the side, curling against him but keeping their bodies connected for a moment longer before he slipped free. The loss made them both sigh.
"We should probably get back to our rooms," Tonks said eventually, though she made absolutely no move to leave. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his chest. "Before someone notices we're missing."
"Five more minutes," Harry negotiated, pulling her closer.
"Ten," Tonks countered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "But then we really do have to go. As much as I'd love to stay here all night."
"Deal." Harry agreed, threading his fingers through her hair. It had settled into a deep purple now, soft and slightly damp with sweat.
They lay in comfortable silence, the candles burning low around them. The world outside this room didn't exist. The war could wait until morning. Voldemort and the Ministry and all the complicated politics could wait. Right now, in this moment, he was just a normal guy and wrapped around someone who made him feel valued and wanted and safe.
It was more than enough.
When they finally forced themselves to separate, Tonks morphed back into her usual appearance. They dressed quickly, stealing kisses between pulling on clothes, neither wanting the moment to truly end.
At the door, Tonks grabbed his collar and pulled him down for one more deep kiss. "Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered against his lips. "See you in the morning."
"Can't wait," Harry said honestly.
She slipped out first, checking the corridor before disappearing like a shadow. Harry waited a few minutes before following, his body still humming with satisfaction and his mind full of the memory of her.
Best birthday ever, indeed.
XXXXX
The office was pristine. Dolores Umbridge insisted on maintaining the highest standards of cleanliness and order. Every surface gleamed. Every paper was filed correctly. Every pen sat at precisely the right angle on her desk.
She sat alone long after the other Ministry workers had gone home, the only light coming from the enchanted lamps that cast everything in a warm pink glow. Her collection of decorative plates watched from the walls, their painted cats seeming to smile with the same fixed sweetness that she wore like armor.
The trial had been a setback. An embarrassing one, if she was being completely honest with herself. That Potter boy had made fools of them all with his convenient witness and his clever arguments. She'd seen the looks on the Wizengamot members' faces, seen the tide turn against the Minister and herself.
Unacceptable.
But Dolores Umbridge hadn't risen to her current position by accepting defeat gracefully. No, she'd gotten here through careful planning and infinite patience and knowing exactly when to strike and when to retreat. Potter thought he'd won today. Let him think that. Let him feel safe and secure in his little victory.
She pulled out a piece of Ministry letterhead. Her quill hovered over the parchment for a long moment as she considered her words with extreme care. This had to be perfect. No room for error. No possibility of misinterpretation.
She began to write, her handwriting neat and flowing. When she finished several paragraphs later, she read it over. Then again. And a third time, checking for any possible flaws or weaknesses in her phrasing.
Perfect.
A thin smile crossed her lips as she folded the parchment carefully.
They had no idea what was coming. Potter and his little band of supporters, Dumbledore with his infuriating calm, even Bones with her rigid adherence to procedure. None of them could see the larger picture, couldn't see how all the pieces were falling into place exactly as they should.
She sealed the envelope, though notably she did not use the Ministry seal. Something more discreet was required for this particular correspondence. The wax was plain and dark, leaving no identifying marks. She addressed it in the same careful script, though the name she wrote made her smile widen fractionally.
Rising from her desk, she walked to the window and opened it. The cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the distant sounds of London. An owl swooped down almost immediately, landing on her desk with barely a whisper. One of her personal birds. Reliable. Discreet.
"Take this," she told the creature, attaching the envelope to its leg with steady fingers. "You know where to go. Deliver it only to the intended recipient. No one else is to see it or know of its existence."
The owl hooted softly once, as if in understanding, and took flight. She watched it disappear into the darkness, becoming just another shadow against the night sky.
Dolores remained at the window for several moments, her expression thoughtful. This was just the first step. There were other arrangements to make, other letters to write, other pieces to move into position. But this was the most important one. The keystone around which everything else would revolve.
She closed the window with a soft click and returned to her desk. Pulling out a fresh piece of parchment, she began drafting something else entirely. Her quill scratched across the paper steadily, the sound loud in the quiet office.
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two would pass within the week. She'd made certain of that. But that was merely the official avenue, the public face of what was to come. What she'd set in motion tonight was something different. Something more targeted. More personal.
Potter had humiliated the Minister today. Had made them look like fools in front of the entire Wizengamot. That could not stand. But direct retaliation would be too obvious, too crude. No, what was needed was something more subtle. Something that would undermine their enemies from within while appearing completely innocent from the outside.
She smiled to herself as she continued writing. By the time anyone realized what she'd done, it would be far too late to stop it. The pieces were already moving. The trap was already set.
Their enemies had his victory today. Let them enjoy it while it lasted. Because very soon, things were going to change.
One didn't cross the ministry and leave unscathed.
To be continued…
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