As a result of recent developments in the Pottermore thread (namely, JKR posting Dolores Umbridge's biography, which holds a couple surprises), I've decided to post the following scene as a teaser. It was written before Rowling posted the Umbridge bio, and I was... darkly amused at how close I came to the new canon with what some prereaders said were exaggerations.
Enjoy.
The British Ministry of Magic, London, UK. Thursday, September
5, 1995, 4:37 PMDolores Umbridge scowled at the parchments which lay spread outacross the top of her desk. At the request of the Minister's
very good friend Lucius Malfoy, she had begun investigating the
background of Hogwarts' new Defense professor. She had had high
hopes of finding something in Sangnoir's history with which to
embarrass and perhaps even disgrace Dumbledore, but to her
growing fury, her investigation had to date gone nowhere.
The Americans, uncultured barbarians that they were, were
disrespectful and barely helpful at the best of times. Only
their diplomatic status had prevented Dolores from teaching them
a well-deserved lesson in manners and deference to their betters
on more than one occasion. She hated dealing with them; they
were all disgusting egalitarians and Mudblood-lovers, little
better than animals as far as she was concerned.
And this time they were worse than useless. When Dolores had
demanded everything they had on Douglas Sangnoir, the magicalembassy's attache had all but laughed in her face. "Unlike
certain corrupt and oppressive regimes," he had said in a snotty
tone, "*we* don't compile dossiers on our citizens, nor would we
just hand them over to any two-bit foreign functionary if we
did." It had taken all her willpower to resist cursing him
through the Floo connection, and it had required the threat of a
diplomatic incident and an escalation to a superior before the
Americans would even consent to look through their records.
And then the impertinent ruffians had had the temerity to come
back and claim they had *nothing* on Sangnoir at all. Not even
the bare minimum paperwork a proper magical government should
possess for a Wizarding citizen, particularly one working outside
of his country. "Are you sure he's from the United States?"
another insolent lout had demanded of her. "Maybe he's from
Canada -- I know all we North Americans look alike to you Brits.
With that name he might be Quebecois." Uncivilized, impudent
savages, the lot of them!
With a vicious swipe of her wand Dolores gathered up the few
sheets of parchment into a stack -- an irritatingly short one --
and wrapped it in a pink ribbon and bow. After depositing it in
a drawer with a glare, she turned her attention to the next
inconvenience facing her and the Minister: the Prophecy.
Its very existence incensed her. Prophecy spheres were supposedto be dusty relics all but ignored on their shelves in theDepartment of Mysteries. That was why the Ministry put them
there, after all -- to keep them out of the way, where they couldcause no trouble. But this one had been drawing far too much
interest since the disaster had brought it to the Unspeakables'attention. They had all but built a fortress around it and were
now devoting almost half their entire staff to its study --
something Cornelius had been unable to prevent, as Mysteries'
budget was controlled directly by the Wizengamot and the
Minister's Office had no veto power over it or its allocation.
Cornelius was pulling what strings he could, but the best he
could do would be to reduce *next* year's funding for Mysteries,
and even that wasn't guaranteed -- it seemed Mysteries had its
own hooks into the Wizengamot.
Even this would have been bearable had the Merlin-be-damned
sphere not been about Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.And still yet to be fulfilled according to the Unspeakables. Ofcourse, Cornelius had classified *that* bit of information at thehighest level of security, but as Dolores well knew these thingshad a way of getting out. The amount of attention and manpowerthe Unspeakables were devoting to the blasted thing had already
been common knowledge among the Ministry staff before they could
clamp down on it. Worse yet, her informants were reporting thatinfuriatingly accurate rumors about the Sphere's subjects hadbegun circulating among the Ministry staff.
Dolores gritted her teeth and clenched her fists until her fleshyknuckles turned white. Something had to be done about that
prophecy! Already its existence and the gossip about it wereundermining her campaign to show Wizarding Britain that Harry
Potter was a lying attention-seeker trying to sabotage the
Minister. Too many Ministry employees were already doubting the
official truth of the matter. And if word of the Prophecy's
existence were to reach the Wizengamot (or worse, the *press*)
then Cornelius's prestige -- and by extension her own prestige,
not to mention her future prospects -- would be irretrievably
damaged.
Dolores Umbridge was, at her heart, a simple woman who believedsimple things. One of those things was that the truth was always
and *only* what Authority said it was, and that denying it was
treason. That if something or someone defied the truth, they had
to be destroyed. And that she, Dolores Umbridge, was (and
deserved to be) part of the Authority that defined Truth for theinferior masses. After some thought, she drew up a memo toCornelius proposing severe penalties to any Ministry employee who
repeated seditious rumors judged to be counter to Ministry policy
or goals -- for the ultimate good of the Ministry and WizardingBritain, of course. With a wave of her wand it folded itself
into a paper airplane and took off for the Minister's office.
That done, she considered other, less official, avenues. Theidea that the Dark Lord could return -- or might possibly have
*already* returned -- was patently ridiculous. The prophecy
sphere was obviously malfunctioning; it should have registered
its contents as fulfilled after the events of Halloween 1981. As
long as it continued to malfunction, though, its lies would only
reinforce those of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, threatening
the stable, peaceful society that defined Wizarding Britain under
the benevolent rule of Dolor... Cornelius Fudge.
For the good of that society, the Prophecy had to be destroyed.It was the only logical option. With the sphere gone, theUnspeakables would return to their uninteresting little esotericprojects, the rumors would cease to circulate, and the threat to
the Minister (and by extension herself) would vanish. Sadly, thefanatics in the Department of Mysteries would disagree with herand refuse to properly dispose of the sphere. So Dolores wouldjust have to contact some more of the ... independent contractors
whom she had hired for similar tasks in the past.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
Enjoy.
The British Ministry of Magic, London, UK. Thursday, September
5, 1995, 4:37 PMDolores Umbridge scowled at the parchments which lay spread outacross the top of her desk. At the request of the Minister's
very good friend Lucius Malfoy, she had begun investigating the
background of Hogwarts' new Defense professor. She had had high
hopes of finding something in Sangnoir's history with which to
embarrass and perhaps even disgrace Dumbledore, but to her
growing fury, her investigation had to date gone nowhere.
The Americans, uncultured barbarians that they were, were
disrespectful and barely helpful at the best of times. Only
their diplomatic status had prevented Dolores from teaching them
a well-deserved lesson in manners and deference to their betters
on more than one occasion. She hated dealing with them; they
were all disgusting egalitarians and Mudblood-lovers, little
better than animals as far as she was concerned.
And this time they were worse than useless. When Dolores had
demanded everything they had on Douglas Sangnoir, the magicalembassy's attache had all but laughed in her face. "Unlike
certain corrupt and oppressive regimes," he had said in a snotty
tone, "*we* don't compile dossiers on our citizens, nor would we
just hand them over to any two-bit foreign functionary if we
did." It had taken all her willpower to resist cursing him
through the Floo connection, and it had required the threat of a
diplomatic incident and an escalation to a superior before the
Americans would even consent to look through their records.
And then the impertinent ruffians had had the temerity to come
back and claim they had *nothing* on Sangnoir at all. Not even
the bare minimum paperwork a proper magical government should
possess for a Wizarding citizen, particularly one working outside
of his country. "Are you sure he's from the United States?"
another insolent lout had demanded of her. "Maybe he's from
Canada -- I know all we North Americans look alike to you Brits.
With that name he might be Quebecois." Uncivilized, impudent
savages, the lot of them!
With a vicious swipe of her wand Dolores gathered up the few
sheets of parchment into a stack -- an irritatingly short one --
and wrapped it in a pink ribbon and bow. After depositing it in
a drawer with a glare, she turned her attention to the next
inconvenience facing her and the Minister: the Prophecy.
Its very existence incensed her. Prophecy spheres were supposedto be dusty relics all but ignored on their shelves in theDepartment of Mysteries. That was why the Ministry put them
there, after all -- to keep them out of the way, where they couldcause no trouble. But this one had been drawing far too much
interest since the disaster had brought it to the Unspeakables'attention. They had all but built a fortress around it and were
now devoting almost half their entire staff to its study --
something Cornelius had been unable to prevent, as Mysteries'
budget was controlled directly by the Wizengamot and the
Minister's Office had no veto power over it or its allocation.
Cornelius was pulling what strings he could, but the best he
could do would be to reduce *next* year's funding for Mysteries,
and even that wasn't guaranteed -- it seemed Mysteries had its
own hooks into the Wizengamot.
Even this would have been bearable had the Merlin-be-damned
sphere not been about Harry Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.And still yet to be fulfilled according to the Unspeakables. Ofcourse, Cornelius had classified *that* bit of information at thehighest level of security, but as Dolores well knew these thingshad a way of getting out. The amount of attention and manpowerthe Unspeakables were devoting to the blasted thing had already
been common knowledge among the Ministry staff before they could
clamp down on it. Worse yet, her informants were reporting thatinfuriatingly accurate rumors about the Sphere's subjects hadbegun circulating among the Ministry staff.
Dolores gritted her teeth and clenched her fists until her fleshyknuckles turned white. Something had to be done about that
prophecy! Already its existence and the gossip about it wereundermining her campaign to show Wizarding Britain that Harry
Potter was a lying attention-seeker trying to sabotage the
Minister. Too many Ministry employees were already doubting the
official truth of the matter. And if word of the Prophecy's
existence were to reach the Wizengamot (or worse, the *press*)
then Cornelius's prestige -- and by extension her own prestige,
not to mention her future prospects -- would be irretrievably
damaged.
Dolores Umbridge was, at her heart, a simple woman who believedsimple things. One of those things was that the truth was always
and *only* what Authority said it was, and that denying it was
treason. That if something or someone defied the truth, they had
to be destroyed. And that she, Dolores Umbridge, was (and
deserved to be) part of the Authority that defined Truth for theinferior masses. After some thought, she drew up a memo toCornelius proposing severe penalties to any Ministry employee who
repeated seditious rumors judged to be counter to Ministry policy
or goals -- for the ultimate good of the Ministry and WizardingBritain, of course. With a wave of her wand it folded itself
into a paper airplane and took off for the Minister's office.
That done, she considered other, less official, avenues. Theidea that the Dark Lord could return -- or might possibly have
*already* returned -- was patently ridiculous. The prophecy
sphere was obviously malfunctioning; it should have registered
its contents as fulfilled after the events of Halloween 1981. As
long as it continued to malfunction, though, its lies would only
reinforce those of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, threatening
the stable, peaceful society that defined Wizarding Britain under
the benevolent rule of Dolor... Cornelius Fudge.
For the good of that society, the Prophecy had to be destroyed.It was the only logical option. With the sphere gone, theUnspeakables would return to their uninteresting little esotericprojects, the rumors would cease to circulate, and the threat to
the Minister (and by extension herself) would vanish. Sadly, thefanatics in the Department of Mysteries would disagree with herand refuse to properly dispose of the sphere. So Dolores wouldjust have to contact some more of the ... independent contractors
whom she had hired for similar tasks in the past.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
