Chapter 668 - The Master’s Return Ⅲ

Elsewhere, in the depths of the Ministry of Magic, a gray-haired wizard with hie hair parted exactly in the middle to both sides' nods in approval of a wispy, petite witch with flyaway dark hair named Malfada Hopkirk. "Well done, Hopkirk," Mr. Spry said, the Head of the Department of the Improper Use of Magic.

"Thank you, sir," Malfada offered a rare smile. She was a stickler for rules and her hard work had finally paid off. Thankfully, she was making a name for herself within the department.

"You are the department's rising star," Mr. Spry said with a cheerful smile as he would be personally delivering the notice. "Now then Miss Hopkirk, I do have an opening available at my side as a secretary might you be interested in the position?"

"Yes, sir!" Malfada breathlessly answered. Not only would the position grant her higher power in the department but launch her into higher offices should she ever wish to leave the department. But truthfully, she did not wish to leave but would rather become the right-hand of Mr. Spry and one day even be recommended to take his position as Head of the Department.

"Excellent," Mr. Spry said at his new protégé. Hopefully, this one would work much better than the last. He had made a mistake the last time that had nearly cost him his position.

Grimacing in remembrance, Mr. Spry sneers as he spots the demoted protégé in question to lackey in charge of the mail and answering correspondence for the department.

The failed protégé in question is a short squat young woman resembling a large pale toad. She had a broad, flabby face, a wide, slack mouth, and a little neck. Her eyes were bulging and slightly pouchy, and in her mousy brown hair, there is a black velvet bow. Today she wore her favorite green tween outfit with a fuzzy pink cardigan on top that made her look that much more like a toad.

Seeing his gaze upon her, Dolores Umbridge raises her head and bows to him. Mr. Spry turns around and says to Miss Hopkirk," Come this way, Miss Hopkirk, we've many things to do."

With a pleased expression, Malfada Hopkirk eagerly follows her new mentor, while Dolores Umbridge hides her anger behind a sickly-sweet smile. However, she failed to completely hide her emotions as her stubby fingers are covered in gaudy old rings and crumbled the letter in her hand.

Glancing at the time, Dolores Umbridge rises to her feet and toddles with no one in the department paying her any attention. She was no one important now and as such, they could all easily ignore her. And better yet, she no longer had the protection of the head of the department having earned his displeasure. She would never be promoted again unless she managed to successfully transfer to another department.

But more importantly, no one would risk taking Dolores Umbridge as every supervisor within the Ministry of Magic had heard the tale of the incident involving the Prince twins and that of Madam Burke. None were willing to become at ill odds with Mr. Spry, the old Prince, and Madam Burke over a measly junior witch, who had nearly cost her boss his position. Rather every supervisor of each department within the Ministry would ensure that her transfer never is approved, and she would remain in a lowly desk job which only the worst offenders were consigned to.

Dolores Umbridge's footsteps resound through the Ministry of Magic as she makes her way out. She rather goes unnoticed as no one pays attention to the annoying, unimportant figure, her. It made Umbridge's lips twitch in anger as she had enjoyed the power that she had briefly wielded. No matter, she would remedy the situation soon enough.

Once out of the Ministry of Magic, Dolores Umbridge apparated to a set location as she pulls her coat and scarf that much tighter around her. A chilly night breeze can be felt causing the tree leaves to whisper, and the tree branches to creak ominously. The night is dark with only dim lighting from the waning crescent, thin moon. And yet every single sound or snapping of branches caused her to whirl around and point her wand in that direction, before finding nothing to her vast dismay and relief.

Dolores Umbridge flushed darkly in sheer mortification and humiliation at her weakness. Why even the very elements seemed to be against her?! They would rue the day, they all mocked her. They would cry out their regrets, but she would have no mercy upon them as she trampled them under her feet. They would all see! She fervently promised herself.

Dolores Umbridge's eyes gain a slightly hazy, hypnotized look as she murmurs to herself in a poisoned honey tone of voice, "Primus is dead." Find authorized novels in , faster updates, better experience, Please click #%E2%80%99s-return-%E2%85%B2_52028210363299427 for visiting.

"Dolohov slew him without cause or warning," interjected a feminine harsh screeching tone of voice. "Only I am left within the puppets' ranks, something must be done, or I fear we will lose control over the puppet!"

"We are in no position at this time to convert another vessel," interjected a cool tone of voice. "Belby has already cost us seven fragments as it is, and we have yet to possess even ¾'s of him. He is proving a rather difficult vessel to acquire, and we are limited in forces as you well know. We cannot afford to interject another into the puppets ranks, beyond yourself and that of Dolores."

"As I said before, something must be done!" Snapped the harsh woman's voice from before. "I trust not Dolohov as he is a rabid dog, who will strike without cause be it friend or foe alike. And Lestrange is no exception, there is a scent of danger wafting from him despite his seemly calm nature."

"Calm yourself," a young man's voice serenely instructed. "With the puppet's return, we will use the puppet's hand to rid ourselves of Dolohov and Lestrange. We have far more pressing subjects to concern ourselves with as All Hallows Eve is nearly upon us. The Gypsy soothsayer has been found, but what of a suitable sacrifice? With Mulciber having become a living cursed vessel, we cannot slay him lest we take upon ourselves the curse."

A soothing females voice answers, "I have already taken care of that matter, Thorfinn Rowle. Before his return to Durmstrang, we cast the Imperius curse upon him and will have the portkey delivered to him via an intermediary. He will be within our possession in a timely manner before the ceremonial time."

"Good," a series of voices chorused.

"And what of our newest vessels that are under transition?" Asked, the poisoned honey voice of Dolores Umbridge. "With the cracks in the wards of Hogwarts fully closed now, there can only be two of use at any given time. I suppose in a strange turn of events it was rather fortunate of Zephyros to perish as we would have had to remove him from Hogwarts."

"Mm, yes," they all chimed in agreement.

"Are our hands are not fully tied," interjected a wheezing voice, "more vessels can enter Hogwarts, but no more than three at a time for six hours without severe repercussions. And it may have to come to that in order to extract information. Since our remaining vessel in transition at Hogwarts has already proven to be rather inoperable."

"It is not from lack of trying," irritably answered the youngest vessel that of a teenage girl. "Indeed, our newest vessel is proving rather difficult to control. We have yet to even gain a third of control of him as his very nature seems to collide in direct contradiction with ours. At present, we can only subtly command him, and even that is proving rather tedious."

"Yes, S.R. Wilkes too proved difficult at the start," mused the young man's serene voice. "We were forced to use five fragments for him in order to completely control him. Although Belby amazingly enough has proven to be a far more difficult vessel to acquire. It is a rather strange and particular conundrum considering his personality characteristics."

"Yes, a most vexing nuisance," they chorused.

"There is still the concerning, unresolved matter of Zephyros's death," said the voice of a teenage girl. "Zephyros unexpected demise is disconcerting. There was no trace of magic found near his last location nor was his body even found. There were no traces left behind, it was as though a powerful entity had erased all traces of the incident."

"Could it be one of the Princes?" Asked a wheezing voice. "There is still Georgine Prince to consider."

"No," answered the young teenage girl. "Georgine Prince although powerful is not sufficiently powerful to erase all magical traces like this. Indeed, Georgine Prince's specialty is sensing magic and wards, but she cannot control Hogwarts wards only the Headmaster of Hogwarts can. As for Severus Prince, he is far too young to be capable of such a feat. He lacks his grandfather's ruthlessness and experience. I have also been closely observing Rowan Prince, who was the last person to see Zephyros alive, but she has shown no indication of guilt, remorse, fear, or any other emotion suggesting that it was she who slew him. And like her brother, she does not possess the ability to do so."

"If it is not the Prince's, then is it Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" A young man's serene voice murmured. "He was the one, Gellert Grindelwald chose..." The young man's voice trailed off in thought for a moment. "A pity, he was a worthy foe."

"The question is rather if Grindelwald ever hinted of our existence to Dumbledore," the voices hissed together.

"No," confidently answered a brash man's voice. "Grindelwald kept his cards close to his chest, and though he sensed us at the edge of his vision, he never truly saw us. Otherwise, he would have proven troublesome."

"Then if it is not Dumbledore nor the Prince's who slew our vessel, Zephyros, then WHO?" A cool male voice matter-of-factly.

There is a faint lapse of solemn silence before a young woman voice cheekily says, "Life and Death will move to assign their own chess pawns. We must not forget, it is not the first time they have placed others in our path. The latest was Grindelwald and we were fortunate enough that his greed overpowered the gift of Farseer sight that he possessed, and all it took was a few simple words here and there to ensure that became a twisted fruit.

"Cheaters," the voices chorused angrily in agreement.

A smoothing, patient woman's voice hissed, "Life and Death have already begun to move, there were signs that we have ignored up until now and they have cost us dearly. We cannot afford to do so anymore. Lucius Malfoy had us removed from the board, and now we are blind! And with the board visiting Hogwarts as it is, we cannot risk being rejected by Hogwarts nor can we attempt to create another vessel!"

"Irksome," they chorused, "but we shall call in this debt with that which is most precious to him."

"Yes," they said with vile glee. "But we must wait until the cards are in place."

"Wait, we shall," they murmured to themselves.

"The puppet shall arrive soon," Dolores Umbridge exclaimed as she gazed up at the thin, crescent moon hanging overhead. A soft chorus of whispers escape from her mouth as if in agreement, and the glazed expression in her eyes vanishes. She impatiently taps her foot against causing a fallen, dry leave to loudly crunch underfoot. However, that mattered very little to her as she wished for the meeting to take place as soon as possible. She had places to be and people to see.