Chapter 322: Umbridge's Dark Side
How did sweet Dolores Umbridge rise to become a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic? What secrets lie beneath her meteoric success? Exclusive reporting by special correspondent Rita Skeeter.
Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Magic and a member of the Wizengamot Trial Panel, achieved remarkable success at a young age. Yet, her colleague Ms. G bluntly remarked: “Oh, please. She’s a wicked little lunatic!”
Why such a harsh judgment? Driven by curiosity and her journalist’s mission, Rita Skeeter interviewed dozens of Umbridge’s former acquaintances—finally uncovering the darker truth behind the seemingly polished facade…
With a tone that feigned objectivity, Skeeter peeled back every layer of Umbridge’s carefully constructed image.
The woman who claimed pure-blood lineage—descended from the esteemed Pureblood Selwyn family—was, in fact, the daughter of a weak, ineffectual cleaning worker and a careless, slovenly Muggle mother. Her Muggle-born brother, nameless and unmentionable, had already been cast out of the household.
Then came testimony from several neighbors—each using a pseudonym—painting a chilling picture of Umbridge’s childhood: a tyrannical, selfish child who bullied her younger brother, scorned her mother, and ultimately drove her family apart.
“I remember that boy—gentle, quiet, always with bruises. Head down, never speaking, like a frightened little mouse,” said Mr. Nogla, his teeth nearly gone. “Agga took her son away with great pain. But I suppose… it was actually a blessing for them.”
Umbridge’s time at Hogwarts followed—she was sorted into Slytherin, where she formed close bonds with several students who would later become Death Eaters. During her school years, the group subjected several Muggle-born students to cruel and degrading treatment. Only after receiving formal warnings from the school did they ease up.
Quoting a former classmate:
“She was a nightmare. Just looking at her made me shake all over. Even now, thinking back to those days… I still feel fear, and hatred. My eyes are still full of tears.”
Yet Umbridge’s misdeeds were met with only minor consequences. Protected by her powerful friends, she graduated with top academic honors and joined the Ministry of Magic as an intern—where she finally found her true calling.
Skeeter then launched into a detailed exposé of Umbridge’s rise: how she ingratiated herself with superiors, flattered the powerful while belittling the powerless, and climbed the ranks with astonishing speed—though every one of her achievements was built on the stolen labor and reputations of others.
Accompanying the article was a photograph: Umbridge standing unnaturally close to a foreign Minister of Magic, the intimacy unmistakable. Another showed her in a pink cardigan, beaming with fawning devotion at Minister Fudge.
Wade stared at the grainy black-and-white image—Umbridge’s forced smile, her eyes cold and calculating. For a moment, he felt a pang of sympathy.
He had no idea what Umbridge had done to provoke Rita Skeeter—but the journalist was clearly unleashing a full-scale vendetta.
Wade was certain: beyond the dramatic flair and inflammatory language, at least eighty percent of the events described were verifiable.
After reading the article, Ferdinand sat in silence for a long time before turning to his son.
“Wade, I know you’re becoming well-known. You’re frequently in the papers now…”
“Mm-hmm!” Fiona nodded proudly. “The rising star of The Alchemist!”—a nickname the media occasionally gave Wade.
Ferdinand smiled faintly, then grew serious.
“But remember this, Wade. No matter how flattering the journalists’ words may sound, never take them at face value. And never speak too freely—about anything.”
Fiona shot back: “Wade can’t do that anyway!”
Then she tilted her head, eyes wide with sudden curiosity: “But this is different, right? Umbridge is a complete monster. If they write about you, readers will only ask: ‘Why is this perfect child not ours?’”
“Words are easily twisted,” Ferdinand said gently. “And would you truly want your son judged by strangers—by envy, by gossip, by malicious intent? He could be hurt, damaged, drawn into trouble he doesn’t deserve.”
Fiona shook her head firmly.
Ferdinand looked at Wade.
“I know you’ve never been boastful. But from now on, focus inward. Let nothing outside distract you.”
“I understand, Dad.” Wade nodded.
He glanced down at the newspaper, at Rita Skeeter’s name scrawled at the bottom. After a pause, he folded the paper neatly and tucked it away.
…
Meanwhile, Rita Skeeter—transformed into a beetle—perched on the rooftop, watching Umbridge storm into the headquarters of The Daily Prophet with a furious entourage.
Instantly, her fellow journalists scrambled out of the building, heads down, faces tense with suppressed rage.
Umbridge couldn’t find Skeeter—so she turned her fury on the paper itself.
“I will introduce stricter regulations!” she declared. “The press will be tightly controlled from now on!”
The paper’s editor-in-chief bowed deeply, sweating, stammering:
“Of course… journalists are free to decide what to report…”
“If you believe Skeeter is fabricating, please point it out. We’ll correct it. Which part is false?”
“Well… reporting facts isn’t defamation, is it? Unless you feel… heh heh… that it’s somehow slanderous?”
The man’s nervous laugh only made Umbridge’s face turn pale with fury.
Behind him, the newsroom erupted into frantic activity. Demand for the paper had skyrocketed—everyone was working overtime to print more copies.
The editor waved frantically at his staff: “Hurry! Keep going!”—all while still bowing and smiling.
Suddenly, two owls burst through the window, dropping red, howling letters onto Umbridge’s head.
A thunderous roar filled the air:
“You hideous, despicable woman! Your actions are utterly abhorrent! I feel sick just breathing the same air as you!”
Umbridge shrieked—and fired a spell at the letter. It exploded violently, splattering a thick, foul-smelling mess all over her.
She leapt back, screaming.
Skeeter, still in beetle form, cackled with delight, her front legs drumming against the roof.
Then—darkness above.
A storm of owls descended, carrying dozens of howling, explosive letters, raining down like a curse.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Several letters roared in unison, shaking the glass of the building to its very core.
With a final, triumphant leap, Skeeter dropped to the ground, transformed back into her human form. She raised her camera—fingers flying—and snapped a single, priceless photograph.
In the image: Umbridge, frozen in terror, staring up at a sea of furious, lunging letters, her face pale with panic.
(End of Chapter)
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