The sky above the White Cliffs of Dover was overcast, and the cold wind blew in from the Channel, causing the waves to crash and rise up against the cliff face.
At such a place, Dolores Umbridge was walking. She held her coat firmly to fight against the wind. To anyone familiar with her, they would never recognize her unless they examined her face closely. Instead of her usual pink wardrobe, she was wearing a somber, dark cloak that covered her small, sprout frame.
She walked near the edge of the cliff, where another individual stood waiting.
Just half a meter in front of the individual lay an empty bucket. As Dolores approached, the individual spoke, "Stir your stumps... it leaves in one minute! Thirty Galleons."
Dolores did not care to examine the Portkey tout. She reached into her coat and pulled out a small pouch, and she just handed him the money.
After the Portkey tout pocketed the money quickly, he began to count down.
"Ten... nine... eight..."
Dolores's eyes were fixed on the bucket.
When he said "four," the empty bucket began to move, vibrating slightly on the ground.
"Three, two." The empty bucket, as if imbued with life, began to quiver. Its movements grew more frantic.
As soon as the Portkey toot said "one," Dolores put her foot inside the bucket.
She immediately felt a pull, a strong, irresistible force yanking her forward. Her whole body distorted and twisted, the world around her blurring into a swirl of color and motion. The sensation was disorienting, a sickening lurch that left her stomach churning.
And then, just like that, it was over.
Dolores found herself standing in a dark alley in Paris, France. The bucket was an unofficial portkey leading to Paris.
After a while of searching, Dolores found exactly what she was looking for.
A bronze statue depicting a woman sitting on a pedestal. To non-magical individuals, the statue would appear as any ordinary statue, but when a magical individual was near, the statue would become animated. Dolores walked into one of the sides of the pedestal and passed through it.
This was the entrance of Place Cachee, the wizarding part of Paris, something similar to Diagon Alley.
Dolores glanced at her watch, the hands pointing to 7:50 PM.
Ten minutes left. She had to hurry.
The reason she was here was because of a letter she had received from Voldemort. The meeting was scheduled for today, November 1st, at 8 pm in Paris. This was why she did not wear her usual pink clothes so that anyone from afar would not recognize her.
She walked and turned into the very first alley she came upon. The alley was narrow and dimly lit, the buildings on either side looming high above her. She reached the last building and slipped inside.
The interior was dim and musty, lit only by a few flickering candles mounted on the walls. A man stood by the entrance, his face obscured by the shadows. He merely gestured towards a descending staircase without a word. Umbridge nodded, understanding that the secret meeting was to take place underground.
Understanding the implication, Dolores stepped onto the steps and began her descent.
At the bottom of the stairs, she found an opening. As soon as she traversed it, her vision shifted. She found herself in a large room filled with people. The silence of the staircase was replaced by a cacophony of voices, a mixture of different accents and tones.
At first, the voices were alien to her, but when she focused on them, she could hear wizards speaking French, Spanish, German, and Italian.
As she turned left and right to see the different people sitting around, she began to notice some familiar faces.
She continued to walk and observe, and her mind came to a conclusion. All these people were very important wizards throughout Europe.
Powerful businessmen mingled with figures she recognized as Ministry officials from various European countries.
Dolores listened intently, trying to discern the languages and conversations. Amidst the sea of foreign tongues, a familiar sound reached her ears.
Someone speaking English.
Her eyes followed the voice, and she found herself gravitating toward the front row of chairs. There, she saw three wizards engaged in a conversation.
Dolores approached them as she recognized Tiberius Greengrass and Narcissa Malfoy.
She knew of Narcissa's previous allegiance to Voldemort, but seeing Tiberius here was unexpected. His presence signified Voldemort's influence expanding even further. Just as Dolores was processing this revelation, her eyes fell on the third wizard. Her breath caught in her throat. Never in her wildest dreams did Dolores expect to see this woman here. The woman turned and rose from her chair and greeted Dolores with a warm smile.
The woman was none other than Amelia Bones, her colleague in the Ministry office. She was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and also a member of the Wizengamot.
The last time Dolores remembered seeing her was in the Wizengamot court for the hearing of Harry Potter.
"I'm happy to have someone like you here," Amelia said, her voice calm and welcoming, "I've told our Lord that surely you will come."
Dolores could hardly believe her eyes and ears. How could Amelia Bones, who was known for her righteousness and fairness, possibly call Voldemort 'our Lord'?
How could she when her parents, her brother, her sister-in-law, and their children were murdered by the Death Eaters during the first wizarding war?
The only possible idea that Dolores could think of was that Amelia came to this gathering as a secret spy. If only Dolores knew that the Amelia in front of her was now reduced to a mere puppet who had her mind tampered with again and again by Voldemort until all that was left was a devoted follower.
Dolores, wanting to test Amelia, asked, "I never thought I'd see the day..."
She kept the sentence open, leaving Amelia to guess by herself that she was implying seeing her by the Dark Lord's side.