Harry Potter : Cael Vale’s journey to Hogwarts

Ministry of Magic – Minister's Office

The bronze doors of the Minister's office creaked open as Albus Dumbledore stepped inside, his long robes trailing behind him like rippling shadows of twilight. His sharp blue eyes swept the grand room—lined with oak bookshelves, floating parchments, and portraits of former Ministers eyeing him with quiet suspicion.

At the center of the room, Minister Cornelius Fudge nearly sprang to his feet, his bowler hat forgotten on the desk as his round face flushed with a mixture of desperation and nervous energy.

"Albus! Thank Merlin you came so quickly." Fudge's voice cracked as he gestured hurriedly for Dumbledore to enter. "Please, please, sit down."

Dumbledore moved with his usual calm grace, settling into the high-backed chair across from Fudge's polished mahogany desk. His piercing gaze didn't waver as he folded his hands together, waiting.

Fudge fidgeted, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "I—I asked you here personally because… because this situation is spiraling beyond my control."

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "The theft at the Department of Mysteries."

Fudge nodded fervently, pacing behind his chair. His voice lowered, almost conspiratorial. "It's… worse than the Daily Prophet makes it sound, Albus. Much worse."

"I expected as much," Dumbledore replied, tone cool but attentive. "What exactly was taken, Cornelius?"

Fudge swallowed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "An artifact. A relic—extremely old, possibly older than the Ministry itself. It's…we called it the Door Key." His voice wavered on the words.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed faintly. "I've heard whispers of such a project. Locked away under Department of Mysteries jurisdiction, correct?"

Fudge nodded again, wringing his hands. "Three centuries, Albus. For three hundred years, generations of Unspeakables have worked on studying that relic. No one's ever unlocked its purpose, but it's… powerful. The kind of power that could unmake protections, open sealed paths… perhaps more."

Dumbledore's eyes sharpened. "And now it's missing."

Fudge's voice cracked again as he leaned forward, hands splayed on the desk. "Gone. Vanished right under our noses. The Department of Mysteries, breached by an infiltrator—one of the most secure wings in the entire magical world—and they stole the Door Key."

Dumbledore's expression remained unreadable, but his gaze narrowed with quiet intensity. "You called me to investigate."

"Yes!" Fudge's tone bordered on begging now. "Please, Albus… You're respected—trusted—by both sides of the aisle. I need someone like you to find out who did this… retrieve the artifact…before… before things get worse."

Dumbledore regarded him silently for a long moment, fingers steepled under his chin. Then, his voice dropped to a colder, measured tone. "And tell me, Cornelius… is this truly your request… or are you speaking for the Pureblood families?"

The shift in atmosphere was immediate.

Fudge froze, color draining from his cheeks as a film of sweat beaded across his brow. His lips twitched, trying—and failing—to form a composed smile. "The…Pureblood families?" His voice cracked with false ignorance. "They—they have nothing to do with this, Albus."

Dumbledore didn't flinch. His eyes burned like twin blue flames behind half-moon spectacles. "I find it hard to believe the timing is mere coincidence. The Daily Prophet may scream incompetence, but the pressure doesn't only come from the public. The old families have long coveted the Department's secrets."

Fudge's composure crumbled further as he pulled at his collar, voice faltering. "Look… yes, alright… some of the old families are pressuring me—blaming me for what happened. I can't control that."

He waved his hands frantically, voice defensive. "But you know how it works, Albus. The Minister of Magic doesn't dictate the Department of Mysteries. It operates independently. I… I barely have authority to request access to their files, let alone police their security."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "So they blame you for incompetence… and yet they refuse external oversight." He tapped a finger against the armrest. "How convenient."

Fudge flushed deeper, stumbling over his words. "I—They—Look, this isn't about them! I need you to help, Albus. Pureblood families… politics… Forget all of that. The artifact is missing. If it falls into the wrong hands, it's not just political fallout—it's a magical catastrophe waiting to happen."

Dumbledore's gaze softened slightly, though steel still laced his voice. "I will investigate. But I'll do so thoroughly—including looking into the old families, regardless of their protests."

The Minister blanched. "Albus… please, tread carefully. The Pureblood families… they've grown… organized. Over the last year, their alliances have solidified. Even the families who once bickered are standing together now."

"I warned you this would happen," Dumbledore's voice cut through sharply. "Their influence festers in secrecy. And their collections of dark relics only grow bolder."

Fudge winced. "I tried, Albus. I truly tried to push through legislation—to authorize raids, inspections… but the resistance is overwhelming. The Wizengamot won't pass it. The families block every attempt. They accuse me of tyranny, of violating 'ancestral rights.'"

Dumbledore's eyes darkened. "And you let them."

The Minister's shoulders slumped, defeated. "It's not that simple. Their money… their influence… We're walking a political tightrope."

"While dangerous relics sit unchecked in the homes of extremists," Dumbledore said, voice low and laced with quiet anger. "You underestimate their ambitions, Cornelius. Their ideals are not harmless traditions. They believe in power through bloodlines. Supremacy through heritage."

Fudge sighed heavily, collapsing back into his chair. "I know… I know, Albus. I'm not blind. But openly moving against them risks tearing the Ministry apart. We have to… play the long game."

Dumbledore's eyes lingered on him, then drifted to the window—the sprawling cityscape of London visible beyond the glass, shrouded in grey clouds.

"The longer we delay," Dumbledore murmured, "the more prepared they become."

A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the ticking of an ornate clock on the wall.

Finally, Fudge cleared his throat, shifting topics. "Let's… return to the matter at hand. The theft. I've seen the reports." His face tightened. "The Aurors… they failed. Completely. The intruder not only infiltrated the Department of Mysteries but escaped unharmed—fought off half a dozen Aurors… and even evaded Mad-Eye Moody."

Dumbledore's brows lifted, intrigued. "Mad-Eye was involved?"

Fudge nodded grimly. "Moody nearly caught him… but the thief slipped away using Polyjuice Potion, clever Transfiguration, and… from what we can tell… incredible Occlumency. Our interrogations confirmed it."

Dumbledore's expression turned thoughtful, stroking his beard. "Polyjuice, disguises, and Occlumency? Skilled indeed… Not your average criminal."

"No." Fudge rubbed his temples, exhausted. "The Daily Prophet's calling it a humiliation. The Department of Mysteries is in chaos. The Unspeakables are furious—many threatening to resign if security isn't overhauled."

"And your position?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Precarious." Fudge's smile was bitter. "The public wants results. The families want a scapegoat. And I… I want that artifact found before the world burns."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly, though his tone remained serious. "I will look into this personally, Cornelius. But I warn you…if this connects to the old families, I will not shield them from consequence."

The Minister hesitated, then sagged in his chair, defeated. "At this point… I'd be grateful for anyone bringing me results."

Dumbledore rose to his feet, straightening his robes. "Good. Then let us begin."

As he turned to leave, Fudge's voice followed him, quiet but laced with tension. "Be careful, Albus. You know how dangerous… poking around the Pureblood families can be."

Dumbledore paused at the door, glancing back with a cool, knowing smile. "Dangerous… perhaps. But necessary."