Several weeks had passed since Rufus Scrimgeour’s grand announcement of his registration as an Animagus. The response from the public had been overwhelmingly positive. The majestic lion form that Rufus had chosen was a powerful symbol of strength and leadership, resonating deeply with both commoners and muggle-borns alike. His campaign had surged as a result, the image of the lion becoming synonymous with his rise to power.
In the bustling atmosphere of his campaign headquarters, Rufus sat in his office, reviewing the latest reports with a sense of measured satisfaction. His lead in the polls was insurmountable. The election was now a mere formality. The wizarding world had embraced him as their next leader.
“Excellent work, everyone,” Rufus said, addressing his campaign team as they stood around the table. “We’ve done the hard part. Now, we need to finish strong.”
One of his advisors, a sharp-witted witch named Marigold, spoke up. “The public response to your Animagus form has been tremendous, Rufus. It’s rare for someone to openly display their form, especially something as majestic as a lion. It’s given people confidence in your leadership.”
Rufus nodded. “That was the intention. A symbol of strength, courage, and leadership. The lion represents what I intend to bring to this office.”
Another advisor, a middle-aged wizard with a knack for strategy, chimed in. “Fudge is trying to stir up trouble, but it’s not gaining any traction. His support base has crumbled.”
Rufus leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “He’s desperate, but desperation can make people do unpredictable things. Keep an eye on him.”
The conversation shifted to the goblins. Rufus had deftly handled their concerns, turning a potential conflict into a begrudging acceptance of the new wealth redistribution plans. The goblins, wary but pragmatic, had decided to cooperate, understanding that there was more to gain from working with the likely next Minister than opposing him.
“Any word from Gringotts?” Rufus asked, turning his attention to the matter at hand.
“Yes,” Marigold replied. “They’ve accepted the terms. The goblins aren’t exactly thrilled, but they know it’s in their best interest to cooperate. They’re still watching you closely, though.”
“As expected,” Rufus said with a small smile. “They’ll come around fully once they see the benefits.”
Public appearances were crucial at this stage, and Rufus was acutely aware of their importance. He continued to meet with influential figures, attending gatherings and events where his presence reinforced his image as a strong, decisive leader. The interactions, though routine, were vital in maintaining the momentum of his campaign.
One evening, Rufus found himself in a private meeting with Lord Greengrass. The two men sat in the well-appointed study of Greengrass’s estate, the atmosphere tinged with a mix of camaraderie and underlying tension. Greengrass, a man known for his strategic mind and discerning nature, had a look of concern etched on his face.
“Rufus,” Greengrass began, his voice steady but serious, “I need to give you a word of caution.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Rufus raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s on your mind?”
Greengrass leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent. “Lucius Malfoy. He’s a friend, but he’s also a man who values power and influence above all else. His loyalty is... fluid.”
Rufus narrowed his eyes, considering Greengrass’s words. “You think he might turn on me?”
Greengrass shook his head. “Not now, not when you’re on the brink of victory. But once you’re in office... Lucius is the type to hedge his bets. If he senses any weakness, he’ll align himself with whoever he thinks can offer him more.”
Rufus nodded slowly, the weight of Greengrass’s warning settling in. “I appreciate your honesty. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
Greengrass leaned back, the tension easing slightly. “Just remember, Rufus, in politics, even your friends can become your rivals.”
Rufus gave a wry smile. “I’m well aware. But it’s good to have friends like you to remind me.”
Meanwhile, Cornelius Fudge was spiraling into desperation. His campaign was in shambles, and his efforts to rally opposition against Rufus had been futile. Sitting in his own office, Fudge paced back and forth, his mind racing as he tried to devise a strategy to regain his footing.
“What about the werewolf rights activists?” Fudge asked one of his remaining advisors, a beleaguered wizard who had stayed loyal despite the sinking ship.
“They’re not interested, Minister,” the advisor replied hesitantly. “Rufus’s policies are actually more lenient towards them than yours ever were.”
Fudge clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. “What about the pureblood families? Surely they don’t all support Scrimgeour?”
“Many of them do,” the advisor admitted. “Especially after his successful negotiation with the goblins. Even those who don’t fully support him are reluctant to back you publicly. They don’t want to be on the losing side.”
Fudge slumped into his chair, a defeated look on his face. “It’s not over until the election is done. We still have time...”
But even as he spoke the words, Fudge knew they rang hollow. The wizarding world had already made up its mind, and there was little he could do to change it.
As the final days of the campaign drew near, Rufus took time to reflect on the journey that had brought him to this point. The complexities of wizarding politics had tested him in ways he hadn’t anticipated, but he had emerged stronger, more resolute in his goals.
One evening, after a particularly long day, Rufus stood alone in his office, staring out the window at the twinkling lights of Diagon Alley. The city was bustling, unaware of the quiet thoughts running through his mind.
His thoughts drifted to Dumbledore, the venerable headmaster who, despite his legendary status, had remained aloof during the campaign. Rufus had always respected Dumbledore, but he knew that their views on how to lead the wizarding world differed greatly. There was a tension between them, one that had been growing as Rufus’s campaign gained momentum.
He sighed, turning away from the window and back to his desk, where the latest poll numbers lay. The election was all but won, yet Rufus knew the real challenges would begin once he took office.