Ever since temporary Minister of Magic Barty Crouch Sr. resigned from office, Dolores Umbridge had temporarily assumed control of the Ministry.
The reason was simple.
She at least possessed some administrative experience, and after Crouch's sudden downfall, she had managed to stabilize the situation together with him during the transition period.
Of course—
Everything was only temporary.
The position of Minister of Magic would eventually be re-elected.
An acting minister was merely an acting minister until officially confirmed.
And right now, Umbridge's situation was extremely unpleasant.
She was desperately trying to secure her position permanently.
The head of the Auror Office, Rufus Scrimgeour, was eyeing the position aggressively, and many people inside the Ministry supported him.
People often described him as an aging lion.
That was the general consensus.
Compared to Umbridge, his reputation within the Ministry was far superior.
In the eyes of many employees, Umbridge was simply a middle-aged woman who had stumbled into power through sheer luck.
Of course—
Most people also believed her appearance alone was insufficient to sustain advancement through "certain unspoken rules."
Power and beauty?
Please have faith in ordinary people's aesthetics.
Many Ministry staff held far greater expectations for Scrimgeour.
They believed this seemingly hardline minister could better handle the aftermath of Voldemort's return—
Rather than relying on this pink-loving female toad who had long passed middle age yet still dressed like a little girl.
Naturally, attitudes toward Voldemort varied greatly.
Apart from a handful of clear-minded individuals, ostrich mentality had become overwhelmingly popular.
Many people desperately pretended nothing had happened.
As though ignoring reality would somehow prevent Voldemort from returning.
And now—
Inside the Ministry of Magic, Umbridge's life was becoming increasingly miserable.
She sat absentmindedly in her office, looking utterly exhausted.
The office itself was horrifying.
Pink bows and ribbons covered the desk.
Lace cloth draped over nearly every surface.
Several vases filled with dried flowers sat atop embroidered cushions.
Decorative plates hung along the wall, each painted with brightly colored cats wearing ridiculous bows.
Faced with the mountain of important documents before her, Umbridge had no idea where to begin.
After staring blankly for a long time, she still failed to process even a single file.
Eventually, her thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Her gaze landed upon her "adorable little kitties."
Only these creatures seemed capable of "healing" and "comforting" her.
There were simply too many problems she couldn't resolve.
Or rather—
Too many decisions she lacked the ability to make.
For example—
How should Azkaban be rebuilt?
Where should new prisoners now be detained?
And most importantly—
How should she deal with Albus Dumbledore?
Should she win him over?
Or suppress him?
Was Voldemort truly back?
Or was all of this merely Dumbledore's scheme?
Perhaps the old man simply wished to increase his prestige and eventually seize power himself?
One should never underestimate the paranoia of those in power—
Especially people whose positions were unstable.
Their suspicion could become terrifying.
"I can help solve your problems."
An extremely charming and seductive voice suddenly echoed beside Umbridge's ear.
She shrieked in fright and nearly tumbled from her chair.
"Who are you?!"
"How did you get in here?!"
Umbridge clutched the collar of her pink sweater while gasping heavily.
Her round eyes stared fearfully at the man standing before her desk.
At the same time, she curled instinctively into her chair.
"Who I am is irrelevant."
"What matters is how you become the true Minister of Magic instead of merely an acting one."
A handsome pale-faced man now stood before her desk silently.
His hands rested gently atop the table while he gazed directly into Umbridge's eyes.
"Why should I believe you?"
Umbridge's voice trembled violently.
This was a woman obsessed with control.
She craved authority pathologically.
Suppressing others brought her twisted psychological satisfaction.
But ironically—
People like her often became the easiest to crush when facing someone truly powerful.
Just like now.
The man spoke monotonously.
"Dolores Umbridge concealed the truth that she herself is half-blood in order to present herself as a pure-blood supporter."
"But what is the reality?"
"Her pitiful father was merely a low-ranking Ministry employee doing unpleasant labor."
"Once his daughter rose to power, he received no benefits whatsoever."
"In fact, he was persuaded into retirement and eventually became a cleaner."
"Hm…"
The pale man admired his own slender fingers thoughtfully without even glancing at Umbridge.
Then he continued calmly:
"And her poor mother…"
"She and her father both despised her deeply."
"Do you know why?"
"I order you to stop!"
Umbridge suddenly exploded.
Her fake girlish voice transformed into the croaking shriek of an enraged toad.
She frantically grabbed for her wand atop the desk—
Only to discover it had already slipped beyond her control.
The wand trembled violently before flying toward her face.
It nearly stabbed directly into her eye before embedding itself deep into the wall behind her.
"Because that Muggle-born witch gave birth to a Squib."
"Your younger brother."
The man continued calmly as though Umbridge's reaction were utterly meaningless.
"On this matter, you and your father shared remarkable agreement."
"You both considered them unbearable stains upon your family."
"So the two of you abandoned the mother and child within the Muggle world."
The man finally turned his face toward Umbridge.
"Excellent."
"I see only fear on your face."
"You're terrified these secrets will destroy your position."
A cold laugh escaped his lips.
"If you feel even the slightest shame…"
"Then perhaps our cooperation should end here."
Who could enter and leave the Ministry of Magic so freely?
Who could effortlessly pry open the darkest corners of another person's heart?
Who could weaponize secrets so casually?
Lord Voldemort.
He needed to rebuild his forces.
But nearly all of his loyal followers had perished within Azkaban.
So—
He turned his attention toward the Ministry itself.
The Imperius Curse was certainly useful.
But it was also dangerous.
Crouch's earlier escape from control had taught Voldemort that lesson well.
Thus, before acting, the Dark Lord conducted careful research.
And the most powerful figure within the Ministry at present happened to be a woman carrying an enormous amount of hidden filth.
After meeting her personally—
He became increasingly satisfied.
This puppet would likely prove even easier to manipulate than expected.
He only needed to guide her slightly.
Without personally lifting a wand—
She could still create endless trouble for that detestable old man.
And in some ways—
That was even more effective than acting directly himself.