Rufus Scrimgeour stood in his office, the flickering light from the enchanted lamps casting long shadows on the walls. He stared down at the map of the Ministry spread across his desk, his brow furrowed in concentration. The stakes were higher than ever, and he knew that without drastic measures, the Ministry could fall under the influence of dark forces. He had three plans—plans that, if implemented successfully, would fortify the Ministry against any threat, including Voldemort himself.
The first plan, the Infiltrator’s Doom, was nearly complete. It was a direct adaptation of Gringotts’ Thief’s Downfall—a powerful enchantment used to wash away all forms of magical concealment and coercion. Rufus had worked closely with the goblins to replicate this magic, modifying it to cover all entrances to the Ministry.
As he made his way down to the atrium, where the final touches were being made on the Infiltrator’s Doom, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of grim satisfaction. The waterfall had been installed over the main entrance, a shimmering cascade of magic that would strip away any enchantments, illusions, or curses as soon as anyone entered.
Griphook, the goblin overseeing the installation, met Rufus at the base of the waterfall. “It’s almost ready, Minister,” Griphook said with a nod. “The enchantments are in place, and we’ll be testing it within the hour.”
Rufus folded his arms, his expression stern. “Good. This is the first line of defense. No one should be able to set foot in this building without their true intentions being laid bare.”
One of the Aurors, who had been watching the goblins work, approached Rufus hesitantly. “Minister, some of the staff are concerned about this. They feel it’s… invasive.”
Rufus turned to face the Auror, his voice firm but not unkind. “Invasive? Perhaps. But this is not about comfort, it’s about security. We’re at war, Auror Dawlish, and war demands sacrifices. Anyone who objects can take it up with me directly, but I doubt they’ll have much success in changing my mind.”
Dawlish swallowed and nodded. “Understood, sir.”
Rufus returned his attention to Griphook. “And the cost?”
“High, but nothing compared to what’s at stake,” Griphook replied, his eyes glinting with a mixture of greed and satisfaction. “The goblins are happy to provide this service… for the right price.”
“Of course,” Rufus said, knowing full well that the Ministry’s coffers would feel the strain. But this was non-negotiable. The Infiltrator’s Doom would ensure that no one—friend or foe—could enter the Ministry under false pretenses.
Griphook gave a small, shrewd smile. “I must say, Minister, it’s rare to find a wizard who understands the value of goblin craftsmanship. Most are too quick to dismiss us.”
Rufus met his gaze steadily. “I’ve learned that in times like these, one must utilize every resource available. We’re all on the same side, Griphook, and we all stand to lose if the Ministry falls.”
“True words,” Griphook replied, his smile fading. “But remember, goblins don’t forget the cost of alliances.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Rufus said evenly. He gave the goblin a curt nod before turning to leave, his mind already on the next task.
Rufus’s second plan was far more secretive. It was a magical surveillance tool, a map similar to the fabled Marauder’s Map, but designed to monitor every corner of the Ministry. Unlike the Infiltrator’s Doom, this plan was to remain a secret known only to the Ministers of Magic.
how to create a magical surveillance tool akin to the fabled Marauder’s Map. He needed something that could monitor every corner of the Ministry, tracking the precise movements of everyone within its walls.
The map, currently in the possession of Fred and George Weasley, was famous for its ability to show the exact location of every person within Hogwarts, down to the tiniest detail. Rufus needed something like that for the Ministry—a tool that could reveal not just where people were, but where they went, and when they went there.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The Marauder's Map was unique, its magic sophisticated and powerful, but most importantly, it was effective.
“If only I could get my hands on it,” Rufus muttered to himself. But he knew it wouldn’t be easy. The Weasley twins were still students at Hogwarts, far from the Ministry's reach. While the Weasleys were generally content under the current Minister, approaching them directly could be risky. He needed to keep his plans under wraps, and involving the twins could potentially expose his intentions.
Rufus had considered offering a trade—something valuable in exchange for the map. But he quickly dismissed the idea. The twins were clever and had a strong loyalty to their family. They were known for their business acumen, and their parents' contentment with the Ministry meant they had little reason to betray any trust. Additionally, Rufus's redistribution plan would likely make the Weasleys richer, further complicating any attempt to sway the twins without raising suspicion.
His thoughts wandered back to when he had learned about the twins’ antics from their time at Hogwarts. He wondered if they truly knew the full extent of the map’s power.
“Getting that map won’t be easy,” Rufus mused. “But it might be the key to everything.”
He needed a plan. Perhaps he could find a way to study the map indirectly, without directly involving the twins. He could appeal to their sense of adventure, framing it as an opportunity to contribute to something larger. But even as he considered this, Rufus knew the twins were too perceptive to fall for such a straightforward approach. He needed something more—a way to obtain the knowledge behind the map without revealing his hand too soon.
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The idea gnawed at him. He needed that kind of surveillance, something that could see beyond the ordinary, track movements, and detect anomalies in real-time. It would be his hidden weapon, a tool to ensure no one in the Ministry could act without his knowledge.
He sighed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. The map was just one piece of the puzzle, but it was a crucial one. Without it, his plans to fortify the Ministry would be incomplete.
As he sat there, lost in thought, a knock on his door brought him back to the present.
“Enter,” Rufus called out.
Amelia Bones stepped in, her face a mix of concern and determination. “Rufus, there are whispers. People are talking about the waterfall—some are uneasy.”
Rufus waved a hand dismissively. “Let them talk. The Infiltrator’s Doom will prove its worth soon enough. Anyone who objects doesn’t understand the gravity of our situation.”
Amelia nodded, though her expression remained troubled. “And the other plans?”
Rufus hesitated. Amelia was one of his most trusted allies, but he couldn’t reveal the full extent of his strategy—not yet. “They’re progressing,” he said vaguely. “You’ll know more when the time is right.”
Amelia studied him for a moment before replying, “I trust you, Rufus. But be careful. The more secrets you keep, the harder it becomes to maintain control.”
“I’m well aware of that, Amelia,” Rufus replied, his tone slightly softer. “But some secrets are necessary for the greater good.”
Amelia pursed her lips, clearly not entirely satisfied but knowing better than to press further. “Just… make sure you’re not shouldering too much alone. We need to stand united if we’re to survive what’s coming.”
Rufus gave her a small, rare smile. “I appreciate your concern. I’ll keep that in mind.”
She nodded, lingering for a moment before turning to leave. As the door closed behind her, Rufus’s smile faded, replaced by the determined, almost grim expression he had worn so often these days.
The third plan was perhaps the most controversial—and the one closest to Rufus’s heart. He had always had a fascination with dragons, ever since he was a boy. Their power, their majesty, and their sheer presence had always captivated him. The idea of having a dragon as a protector for the Ministry was something he had long dreamed of, and now, with the threat of Voldemort looming, it seemed more necessary than ever.
Rufus knew it wouldn’t be easy. Convincing others of the merits of this plan was proving to be a challenge. Most of his advisors were strongly opposed, citing the dangers and the logistical nightmare of housing a dragon within the Ministry.
“But imagine it,” Rufus argued passionately during one of their meetings. “A dragon, not chained like at Gringotts, but living in harmony with us, just like the giant squid at Hogwarts. It would be a symbol of our strength, a deterrent to anyone who dared challenge us.”
One of the senior officials, a stern-looking witch named Mathilda Prewett, shook her head. “Minister, with all due respect, it’s too dangerous. Dragons are not creatures to be tamed. They’re unpredictable, and the risk to our staff is simply too great.”
Rufus clenched his fists, trying to rein in his frustration. “We’re already facing unprecedented dangers. We need to be prepared for anything.”
“And you think a dragon is the answer?” Mathilda countered. “We can barely handle the security measures we’re putting in place now.”
“I believe in the power of symbols,” Rufus said firmly. “And a dragon would be the ultimate symbol of our resolve.”
The room fell silent. Rufus knew he was fighting an uphill battle. Securing a dragon was no small feat, and even if he could, there was no guarantee that it would serve the Ministry as he envisioned. But the idea had taken root in his mind, and he wasn’t ready to let it go.
Rufus took a deep breath and looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his advisors. “We’re at a crossroads, and the decisions we make now will determine the fate of the Wizarding World. I’m not asking for immediate approval, but I urge you to consider the long-term benefits of this plan.”
A few of the advisors exchanged uneasy glances, but none spoke up. Mathilda’s frown deepened, but she remained silent. Rufus knew he hadn’t convinced them, but he also knew he had planted the seed of doubt in their minds. It was only a matter of time before they came around—or so he hoped.
As the days passed, Rufus continued to push forward with his plans, each one representing a different facet of his strategy to fortify the Ministry. The Infiltrator’s Doom was operational, the magical surveillance tool was in development, and the dragon plan—while still facing resistance—was something he refused to give up on.
But as he lay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling of his modest flat, doubt gnawed at him. Was he doing enough? Were these measures truly sufficient to protect the Wizarding World from the growing darkness? Or was he merely grasping at straws, trying to create the illusion of control in a world that was rapidly spiraling out of it?
The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He was the Minister of Magic, the leader of the Wizarding World, and yet, for all his power and influence, he felt increasingly powerless in the face of the mounting threats.
But there was no room for doubt, no time for second-guessing. Rufus Scrimgeour was a soldier, a warrior, and he would continue to fight with every ounce of strength he had. The fate of the Wizarding World depended on it.