As the night grew deeper, the Ministry of Magic’s halls seemed almost deserted, their usual bustle muted by the late hour. However, behind closed doors, the gears of political ambition were grinding away. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Foreign Relations, had a meeting to attend—one he had been eagerly awaiting for days.

His footsteps echoed softly as he approached the private chamber where Henry Delacroix, the French Minister, awaited him. Cornelius had always prided himself on his ability to spot opportunity, and this meeting was no exception. With elections a few years away, now was the time to build alliances—alliances that could shift the balance of power in his favor.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister of Magic, had a firm grip on his office, but Cornelius knew that any position of power was precarious. He was already thinking ahead, laying the groundwork for his own potential bid to become Minister. What better way to bolster his chances than to secure the support of someone like Henry Delacroix?

Entering the chamber, Cornelius greeted Henry with a polite smile, his demeanor warm but with a clear undercurrent of calculation. "Minister Delacroix, thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he said smoothly, taking a seat across from the Frenchman. "I trust your visit to Britain has been productive thus far?"

Henry, seated comfortably with a glass of wine in hand, returned the smile, though there was a flicker of amusement in his sharp eyes. "It has been... enlightening," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of humor that Cornelius either didn’t catch or chose to ignore.

Cornelius leaned forward slightly, eager to begin. "I’ve been meaning to discuss something with you, something that concerns the future of both our ministries," he started, keeping his voice measured. "As you know, the next election is a few years away, and I believe we share similar views on the direction in which our magical governments should be headed."

Henry raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in his glass thoughtfully. "Do we now?" he asked, his voice neutral but his curiosity piqued. He had heard enough political maneuvering in his time to recognize when someone was looking for an advantage.

"Indeed," Cornelius continued, a practiced smile creeping onto his face. "While Rufus Scrimgeour has done much for Britain, I believe that the next election will present an opportunity for change, for a fresh perspective. And, naturally, I would appreciate your support when the time comes."

Henry took a sip of his wine, letting the silence stretch out just long enough to make Cornelius shift slightly in his seat. The French Minister found the whole situation amusing. This man, sitting across from him with all his ambition and schemes, wanted him to go against Rufus Scrimgeour—his potential son-in-law? How amusing, indeed.

Henry did not let the amusement show on his face, though his mind was turning. Did Cornelius really think Henry had any political capital to expend in this? His own position in France was shaky at best, with the upcoming election threatening to unseat him entirely. Henry had no time to meddle in British affairs when his own career was teetering on the edge.

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Still, it was fascinating to watch Cornelius at work, oblivious to the fact that Henry was far from interested in such schemes. Not to mention, if Genevieve were to marry Rufus, it would be foolish to support a man who sought to undermine his niece’s potential husband.

But Henry said nothing about any of this. Instead, he gave Cornelius a neutral nod, as if considering the offer. "You make an interesting case, Minister Fudge," he said, his voice smooth, betraying none of his inner thoughts. "It’s always wise to plan ahead for such matters."

Cornelius, sensing a sliver of hope, leaned in. "Precisely! With your influence, we could forge a stronger alliance between our two ministries, one that would benefit both our nations in the long term. I believe a united front could accomplish great things."

Henry allowed Cornelius’s words to wash over him, nodding thoughtfully, though his mind was elsewhere. Did this man not realize the futility of his ambitions? Henry found it almost amusing—if it weren’t so desperate. Fudge was making his pitch, believing that the French Minister still held enough sway to tip the scales. But Henry knew better. His own days in power were numbered, and even if they weren’t, why would he support Cornelius over Rufus?

Still, it wouldn’t do to show his hand too soon.

"I see your point," Henry said diplomatically, offering a vague smile. "But, as you can imagine, matters of such importance require careful consideration. I’m not one to make decisions in haste."

Cornelius nodded eagerly. "Of course, of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone of your stature. Take all the time you need."

Henry took another sip of his wine, hiding his bemusement behind the glass. Oh, how little Cornelius knew. But for now, he would let the man play his games. Henry wasn’t in a rush to disillusion him. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to keep his options open.

"Rest assured, I’ll give it the thought it deserves," Henry said, leaning back in his chair. "But for now, perhaps we can discuss more pressing official matters."

Cornelius, sensing the conversation shifting back to more formal grounds, straightened his posture and nodded. "Of course, Minister. Let’s proceed."

As they moved on to the diplomatic pleasantries of inter-ministry cooperation, Henry’s mind lingered on Cornelius’s request. He found it amusing how Fudge believed he could win him over, how he thought he had a real chance in the upcoming elections. Henry had no intention of backing such a man—especially not when Rufus Scrimgeour was the one Genevieve had begun to trust.

No, Cornelius’s ambitions would remain just that: ambitions. And Henry, for now, would remain silent, amused by the absurdity of it all.