The Mudblood

Chapter 69 : Year 4

Note: in the Harry Potter books, Death Eater Rookwood went to Azkaban after the first wizarding war (I think), but for the purposes of this story, he's didn't get convicted and he's working in the Ministry.

"Please, sit," Dolores Umbridge commanded as she sat down at her little pink desk. We'd arrived in her deceivingly bright torture chamber, where the walls were still decorated with cat portraits, and everything in sight was drenched in pink.

Reluctantly, I took the empty seat on the opposite side of her desk, leaning back and crossing my arms standoffishly.

"Here, have some tea," she ordered, pushing a pre-filled cup of warm tea toward me. I eyed it skeptically but didn't move to take it. "Please drink, dear."

"What kind of tea is it?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows dully.

"Black, obviously," she replied, her face as calm as usual, but her voice betraying a small tinge of impatience.

"Mm, I only like green," I replied casually as I began to examine my nails. "What a shame."

Umbridge's expression hardened in clear contempt. "Well, then. Do you know why I've brought you here, Miss Fitzroy?"

"I assume it has something to do with the events that unfolded in class today," I answered coolly. "You probably think I was the one to charm those books."

"Oh, I know that was you, Miss Fitzroy," she replied, a sweet but sinister simper stretching across her face. "But, I am willing to ignore today's outburst of rebellion if you'll simply cooperate in the discussion we're about to have."

My jaw shifted. "What discussion?"

A malicious gleam flickered through her eyes as she pulled a small, familiar envelope out of her desk. "We found this letter—"

"What do you mean you found it?" I bellowed, lurching up quickly as I attempted to snatch the envelope from her grasp. She quickly withdrew, her smile growing progressively more sadistic. "I sent that letter with my owl—where could you have found it?"

"It matters not how we acquired this letter," she began, opening the envelope and slipping out the parchment. "What matters is its content, Miss Fitzroy."

"You read my letter?" I snarled, my face growing hotter with each word.

"Well, naturally when we saw that this letter was addressed to a half-breed, we had to take precaution," she drawled. "Those creatures are dangerous, you know—"

"He's not a creature! He's my uncle—he's a person—"

"Curious, isn't it?" she continued calmly, speaking directly over me. "How you have a half-breed for an uncle, yet you're listed as Muggle-born in the Ministry's records... If someone were to look into it, they might be able to uncover some unwanted truths, would they not?"

My jaw clenched as I kept my mouth firmly shut.