May 25, 1982 - Machiavelli was an amateur
Freezing rain was pelting down as Dolores Umbridge hastened up the walkway to Walden Macnair's door.
Couldn't have picked a much worse day, she thought in some irritation. Her Repelling Charm was keeping the rain off, but the cold was seeping through.
Still, this was a visit of some importance. With the Dark Lord gone, it was time to get the wizarding government in order.
Time to step hard on certain elements of the community.
She knocked on the door.
Macnair waited a few moments before answering the door. His guest, whilst of some importance, needed keeping in her place, at least for the time being.
After setting off the heating charm on the kettle, and letting it almost come to the boil, he opened the door to his town house.
"Ah, Miss Umbridge. You're just in time; the kettle's just boiled."
Umbridge removed her cloak, tipping her wand towards it with a quick Drying Spell.
Are you certain you waited long enough before answering the door.... Never mind. Macnair was a good connection, whatever his foibles.
"Thank you," she said, managing a smile of sorts. "The weather is certainly foul enough; a cup of something hot would be most welcome."
"Tea, then. Do come through to the kitchen."
He walked off, letting her follow. A house elf took her cloak and disappeared with it.
She plodded after him, glancing around at the house, which was, to her mind, rather poorly lit on such a day.
There was money here, though, although it was not flaunted. In the kitchen, she pulled a chair away from the table and sat down.
Macnair Summoned milk and sugar from around the kitchen, and brewed up a teapot before sitting down.
"You can talk comfortably here. It's the only place I have warded here, for the sake of security. DoMLE regulations, in fact. Now, I take it you're close to Fudge?"
She nodded and sipped the hot tea gratefully. "That's true. And he trusts me enough to allow me a fair amount of latitude."
She didn't mention that the 'latitude' was often of her own making. Fudge couldn't object to what he didn't know, after all.
"Excellent. He..." Macnair paused for effect, "He has a certain future ahead of him. It's wise of you to place yourself behind him."
Umbridge paused in the act of lowering the cup. "You sound very certain, Mr. Macnair -- not to mention very cryptic. I'm afraid you've left me somewhat at a loss. Could you elaborate?"
"Well, it would of course depend on what he," and by that he meant Fudge, "desires. Head of DoMLE. Minister, even. The sky is the limit, you might say. Of course, that depends entirely on whether his supporters are certain of themselves."
He took a sip of his tea, and looked intently at her. "What are you certain of, Miss Umbridge?"
Her eyes glinted and she straightened in her chair. "One thing I am certain of, Mr. Macnair, is that things cannot go on as they are now. We need a firm hand on the tiller, or the entire wizarding world will be dangerously adrift.
"We need laws to ensure security above all, and we need people in power who are not afraid to enforce those laws."
Macnair smiled at that. "A woman after my own heart. You must let me introduce you to Elena Crowe at some point. But that's beside the point. Fudge believes in the same things, of course, or I'd never have approached him. Malfoy is another. Tell me, what do the three of you have in common?"
She idly stirred her tea, looking up again with a somewhat strained smile. "I'm not very good at riddles, Mr. Macnair. Would it be our loyalty to the wizarding world?"
Macnair looked at the clock. "Miss Umbridge, talk sensibly now. The kitchen, as I said, is entirely warded. Everybody's loyal to the wizarding world in their heads, even that fool Dumbledore."
He drained his glass, and poured another.
"Only drink from a communal teapot, by the way, and make sure the other person drinks first. They poisoned a tea urn with hallucinogenics once, you know."
She stared, then pulled herself together. Pah ... probably something he read in The Quibbler.
"I hope you don't think I follow in Dumbledore's footsteps. His notion of loyalty would leave us with the dregs of wizarding society in positions of power. I believe that power should be in the hands of those who know how to use it. Muggle-borns, halfbloods and non-humans need to be kept in their places."
"Indeed. I'm sorry, but explain to me where these places might be?"
"Mr. Macnair, you are playing games. Do you seriously want to see a Ministry, or a Wizengamot, loaded with half-bloods and Muggle-borns, goblins and giants, werewolves and house-elves? The privilege of leading the wizarding world should go to those whose lineage proves them fit to do so."
"Of course. However -- and this, Miss Umbridge, is an important however -- there are some who, under it all, think the way we do. And there are those of us who are incapable of thinking at all. I would recommend you keep your opinions to yourself outside this room, however sincerely you hold them."
Another sip of his drink.
"Now, to business. Fudge, yourself, and Malfoy are all young. And, of course, ambitious. That's a potent combination, don't you think? And your ideas... well, they're ideas I agree with, for the most part."
She cast a sharp glance at him. 'For the most part'?
"I believe youth and ambition can be a potent combination, as you say," she said. "But I also believe we need experience to back us up. Proven experience will often catch the ear of people who might not be inclined to listen to youth, however sincere."
"And I'm willing to give it. Political experience, political capital. Even money, should you need it. But what I'm unwilling to do is deal with people without discretion. I'm strictly playing from the back room, do you ken?"
Another pause, another sip.
"Very well. Fudge will be Minister. I want you to be in the Wizengamot, to keep him in line. Malfoy will be playing from outside. If I hear you and Malfoy have been seeing each other, though, I'll be disappointed. A conspiracy's no use if everybody knows who the conspirators are."
Umbridge put her empty cup down with a clink, her eyes now glittering with excitement. The Wizengamot. I shall be in the Wizengamot. That had been more than she'd dared hope for.
"Yes, I understand. And you can trust me to do my part."
"There's a few constituencies that we could Apparate you in to. The Malfoys control Old Sarum, but that would link you to him too obviously. Windermere's another, and I think I have some distant relatives there who would be happy to put you forward for that. Lake District, that, but you'd not be expected to be there more than a few days a year. I'll get you an interview with Gwen Borgin- you probably know her, one of the old guard, but never linked to You-Know-Who. You'll want to get her on board."
Umbridge was nodding feverishly. Things were moving much faster than she'd expected. The Lake District, well, it wasn't a prime place, but it would be a good stepping-stone.
"Thank you. And I'd be happy to speak with Miss Borgin," she said.
"Excellent. Now, I believe we've run out of tea. Miss Borgin- never call her Gwen unless she asks you to- is Whitby's MW, which means she'll be close by you, geographically. We'll try and get you your seat as soon as possible- Penfold holds it, but he's looking to step down soon, and I'm sure I can persuade him with a nice stipend from the Ministry."
With a click of his fingers, the house elf arrived, carrying Umbridge's cloak. Macnair stood up, and smiled.
Umbridge swung the cloak around her shoulders and smiled back. The weather was still foul, but it no longer mattered.
He's leaving active government service, she thought shrewdly. What a shame. He would have been a real asset.
However, he'd promised more help than she would have believed possible -- along with personal advancement.
"Thank you very much for your time," she said. "I hope this is only the first of many ... fruitful meetings."
"Indeed. Well, I have work to be getting on with. Dangerous beasts don't kill themselves, for some reason," he said, leading her out in to the hallway and opening the front door. "Do let me know how you're getting on. My office is always open to a friendly face, when I'm not working from home."
That for the benefit of any Aurors listening in.
She stepped out into the rainy darkness, wrapped her cloak tightly around her and vanished.
By toadying_witch and vermine_robes