Chapter 668 - The Master’s Return Ⅲ (1/2)
Elsewhere, in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, a gray-haired wizard with hie hair parted exactly in the middle to both sides' nods in approval of a wispy, petite witch with flyaway dark hair named Malfada Hopkirk. ”Well done, Hopkirk,” Mr. Spry said, the Head of the Department of the Improper Use of Magic.
”Thank you, sir,” Malfada offered a rare smile. She was a stickler for rules and her hard work had finally paid off. Thankfully, she was making a name for herself within the department.
”You are the department's rising star,” Mr. Spry said with a cheerful smile as he would be personally delivering the notice. ”Now then Miss Hopkirk, I do have an opening available at my side as a secretary might you be interested in the position?”
”Yes, sir!” Malfada breathlessly answered. Not only would the position grant her higher power in the department but launch her into higher offices should she ever wish to leave the department. But truthfully, she did not wish to leave but would rather become the right-hand of Mr. Spry and one day even be recommended to take his position as Head of the Department.
”Excellent,” Mr. Spry said at his new protégé. Hopefully, this one would work much better than the last. He had made a mistake the last time that had nearly cost him his position.
Grimacing in remembrance, Mr. Spry sneers as he spots the demoted protégé in question to lackey in charge of the mail and answering correspondence for the department.
The failed protégé in question is a short squat young woman resembling a large pale toad. She had a broad, flabby face, a wide, slack mouth, and a little neck. Her eyes were bulging and slightly pouchy, and in her mousy brown hair, there is a black velvet bow. Today she wore her favorite green tween outfit with a fuzzy pink cardigan on top that made her look that much more like a toad.
Seeing his gaze upon her, Dolores Umbridge raises her head and bows to him. Mr. Spry turns around and says to Miss Hopkirk,” Come this way, Miss Hopkirk, we've many things to do.”
With a pleased expression, Malfada Hopkirk eagerly follows her new mentor, while Dolores Umbridge hides her anger behind a sickly-sweet smile. However, she failed to completely hide her emotions as her stubby fingers are covered in gaudy old rings and crumbled the letter in her hand.
Glancing at the time, Dolores Umbridge rises to her feet and toddles with no one in the department paying her any attention. She was no one important now and as such, they could all easily ignore her. And better yet, she no longer had the protection of the head of the department having earned his displeasure. She would never be promoted again unless she managed to successfully transfer to another department.
But more importantly, no one would risk taking Dolores Umbridge as every supervisor within the Ministry of Magic had heard the tale of the incident involving the Prince twins and that of Madam Burke. None were willing to become at ill odds with Mr. Spry, the old Prince, and Madam Burke over a measly junior witch, who had nearly cost her boss his position. Rather every supervisor of each department within the Ministry would ensure that her transfer never is approved, and she would remain in a lowly desk job which only the worst offenders were consigned to.
Dolores Umbridge's footsteps resound through the Ministry of Magic as she makes her way out. She rather goes unnoticed as no one pays attention to the annoying, unimportant figure, her. It made Umbridge's lips twitch in anger as she had enjoyed the power that she had briefly wielded. No matter, she would remedy the situation soon enough.
Once out of the Ministry of Magic, Dolores Umbridge apparated to a set location as she pulls her coat and scarf that much tighter around her. A chilly night breeze can be felt causing the tree leaves to whisper, and the tree branches to creak ominously. The night is dark with only dim lighting from the waning crescent, thin moon. And yet every single sound or snapping of branches caused her to whirl around and point her wand in that direction, before finding nothing to her vast dismay and relief.
Dolores Umbridge flushed darkly in sheer mortification and humiliation at her weakness. Why even the very elements seemed to be against her?! They would rue the day, they all mocked her. They would cry out their regrets, but she would have no mercy upon them as she trampled them under her feet. They would all see! She fervently promised herself.
Dolores Umbridge's eyes gain a slightly hazy, hypnotized look as she murmurs to herself in a poisoned honey tone of voice, ”Primus is dead.” Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click #%E2%80%99s-return-%E2%85%B2_52028210363299427 for visiting.
”Dolohov slew him without cause or warning,” interjected a feminine harsh screeching tone of voice. ”Only I am left within the puppets' ranks, something must be done, or I fear we will lose control over the puppet!”
”We are in no position at this time to convert another vessel,” interjected a cool tone of voice. ”Belby has already cost us seven fragments as it is, and we have yet to possess even ¾'s of him. He is proving a rather difficult vessel to acquire, and we are limited in forces as you well know. We cannot afford to interject another into the puppets ranks, beyond yourself and that of Dolores.”
”As I said before, something must be done!” Snapped the harsh woman's voice from before. ”I trust not Dolohov as he is a rabid dog, who will strike without cause be it friend or foe alike. And Lestrange is no exception, there is a scent of danger wafting from him despite his seemly calm nature.”
”Calm yourself,” a young man's voice serenely instructed. ”With the puppet's return, we will use the puppet's hand to rid ourselves of Dolohov and Lestrange. We have far more pressing subjects to concern ourselves with as All Hallows Eve is nearly upon us. The Gypsy soothsayer has been found, but what of a suitable sacrifice? With Mulciber having become a living cursed vessel, we cannot slay him lest we take upon ourselves the curse.”
A soothing females voice answers, ”I have already taken care of that matter, Thorfinn Rowle. Before his return to Durmstrang, we cast the Imperius curse upon him and will have the portkey delivered to him via an intermediary. He will be within our possession in a timely manner before the ceremonial time.”
”Good,” a series of voices chorused.