The early morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of Rufus Scrimgeour’s study, casting a warm glow over the cluttered room. Today was the day he had been waiting for—the culmination of his ambitious campaign. Despite the confidence that he would emerge victorious, his mind was occupied with final details.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” Rufus called.
The door opened to reveal his assistant, Miranda Wexley. A capable witch with chestnut hair neatly pinned up and keen green eyes, she was known for her efficiency and discretion. “Everything is in place for today, sir. The polling stations are ready, and the press has been briefed. There’s also an update on Lupin.”
Rufus straightened; his interest piqued. “What’s the news?”
Miranda smiled. “I spoke with him earlier. He’s agreed to meet with you to discuss a potential job offer. He seemed genuinely interested, and it’s clear he’s considering it seriously.”
“Good,” Rufus replied, nodding. “Ensure that he understands the offer is genuine and beneficial for him. We need his support for a broader plan.”
As Miranda left, Rufus’s thoughts returned to his strategy. The campaign had been intense, filled with both intrigue and manipulation. He had managed to secure Rita Skeeter’s assistance after she was forced to register as an Animagus. Although her journalistic credibility had suffered, she remained a powerful ally. Her articles had been crucial in shaping public perception, and Rufus intended to use that to his advantage.
The grand atrium of the Ministry of Magic was a whirlwind of activity as Election Day reached its climax. The hall, with its towering marble columns and golden accents, had been transformed into a hub of anticipation and excitement. Witches and wizards of all ages, from all corners of the magical world, filled the space, their chatter echoing off the high ceiling. Floating enchanted banners displayed the faces of the candidates—Rufus Scrimgeour, Cornelius Fudge, and Barty Crouch Jr.—alongside their campaign slogans.
Rufus stood near the front of the room, his tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow on the polished floor. His lion-like mane of graying hair was perfectly groomed, and his amber eyes scanned the room with a calm, calculated intensity. Despite the storm of emotions swirling within him, his outward demeanor was one of unwavering confidence. He knew the stakes were high, not just for himself, but for the future of the magical world.
Beside him stood Madeline Greene, her sharp green eyes flicking between the crowd and the large enchanted screen where the results would soon appear. She had been Rufus’s right hand throughout the campaign, her efficiency and attention to detail playing a crucial role in the strategy that had led them to this moment. As she glanced at Rufus, she caught the slight tension in his jaw—one of the few signs that he was anything less than perfectly composed.
The murmurs in the atrium grew to a crescendo as the clock struck the hour. A hush fell over the crowd as a Ministry official, an elderly wizard with a long silver beard, stepped up to the podium. With a flick of his wand, the screen behind him lit up, displaying the results of the election. The crowd leaned forward, holding their breath.
“The results of the election for the new Minister of Magic are as follows,” the official announced, his voice amplified by magic to reach every corner of the atrium.
There was a brief, tense pause before the numbers began to appear on the screen.
Rufus Scrimgeour: 68%
Cornelius Fudge: 25%
Barty Crouch Jr.: 7%
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The atrium erupted in a cacophony of cheers and applause as Rufus Scrimgeour’s name and the overwhelming majority flashed across the screen. The support was clear—Rufus had won by a landslide. Witches and wizards in the crowd waved their wands, sending up streams of colorful sparks in celebration.
Rufus allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he acknowledged the cheering crowd. This was the moment he had worked tirelessly for, the culmination of months of careful planning, strategic alliances, and relentless effort. But even in this moment of triumph, his mind was already turning to the challenges ahead. The battle for the election had been won, but the war for the future of the magical world was just beginning.
Cornelius Fudge, who had been standing at the back of the room, tried to maintain a semblance of dignity as he clapped along with the rest of the crowd. The portly wizard with thinning hair and a round, ruddy face had clearly been disappointed by the outcome, though he attempted to hide it behind a mask of politeness. The surprising number of votes he had received showed that traditionalists still held significant sway within the Ministry, but it was not enough to overcome Rufus’s momentum.
Barty Crouch Jr., on the other hand, stood apart from the crowd, his expression unreadable. The once-ambitious son of a prominent Ministry official had garnered minimal support, his low profile during the campaign contributing to his poor showing. His sharp features and cold, calculating eyes betrayed little of his inner thoughts, though there was no doubt he was already contemplating his next move.
As the applause died down, Rufus stepped forward to address the crowd. The enchanted screen shifted to display his image, larger than life, as he stood at the podium. The room fell silent once more, all eyes on the new Minister of Magic.
“Thank you for your support,” Rufus began, his voice steady and commanding. “This victory is not just mine, but ours. It is a testament to our shared belief in a stronger, safer future for our world.”
His words were met with nods of agreement and murmurs of approval from the crowd. Rufus continued, his tone becoming more resolute. “But let us not be complacent. The real work begins now. We face significant challenges, both from within and without, but I am committed to facing them with transparency, integrity, and determination. Together, we will build a Ministry that is not only respected but feared by those who would do us harm.”
As Rufus spoke, his gaze swept across the crowd, taking in the faces of those who had supported him, those who had opposed him, and those who remained undecided. He saw familiar figures—Ministry officials, Aurors, members of the Wizengamot, and representatives from various magical communities. Each one of them would play a role in the difficult road ahead.
Among the crowd, Rufus spotted Dolores Umbridge, standing with a group of Ministry employees. Her toad-like face, framed by her signature pink cardigan and frilly bow, was lit up with a smile that was more of a self-satisfied smirk. She clapped enthusiastically, her eyes gleaming with ambition. Rufus felt a surge of internal disgust as he noted her presence. Dolores was the epitome of everything he despised about the Ministry’s bureaucracy—self-serving, sycophantic, and ruthless in her pursuit of power. Yet, he knew that she could be useful. Her loyalty to the Ministry was unquestionable, even if her methods were distasteful.
As Rufus concluded his speech, the crowd erupted in applause once more. He stepped down from the podium, shaking hands with well-wishers as he made his way through the throng of supporters. Madeline Greene fell in step beside him, her face a mask of professionalism despite the clear excitement in her eyes.
“Well done, sir,” she said quietly as they walked. “The hard part is over.”
Rufus shook his head slightly, a grim smile on his lips. “No, Madeline. The hard part is just beginning.”
Rita Skeeter exited the office where she had just met with Rufus. Rita, a sharp-eyed woman with a reputation for getting the inside scoop, overheard whispers from other reporters about how she might have used her Animagus form to gather exclusive scoops. The speculation was unwelcome, and she felt a flush of embarrassment as she walked away. Though her reputation had taken a hit, she knew her role was crucial in maintaining favorable media coverage.
Later that evening, Rufus found himself alone in his quarters, grappling with a profound sense of guilt. He looked at a portrait of his parents, their faces a reminder of his past and the weight of his new role. The realization that Voldemort was still a looming threat made him anxious about the future.
His internal monologue revealed the depth of his concerns. He felt a keen sense of responsibility, not just for the success of his administration but for ensuring that his achievements would not be undone by future conflicts. The realization that he had so much to lose now, combined with the fear of Voldemort’s return, weighed heavily on him. The thought of failing in his mission was a daunting prospect, and for the first time since assuming Rufus’s identity, he felt a deep, unsettling fear of what might come.