The Walls Around Her Heart | Dolores Umbridge x Donald Trump

Chapter Three

Donald Trump was staring at the woman. She appeared to be a little younger than him. He guessed she was in her sixty's or something.

Donald liked younger people. However, he thought her dress was atrocious. Has she ever realized that wearing too much of a color is disgusting?

But she wasn't here to be judged. She was here to get the job done.

He sat down at the table, sitting directly across from her. Others sat down next to him, to make sure this meeting would go smoothly.

"What are your views on Mexicans?" He asked.

She looked confused for a minute. "Um, I really do not care about them. Neutral, really."

At least she doesn't support them. Donald figured that was good enough.

"Hillary Clinton?" He asked.

"Insane criminal," The lady responded.

"You're in, Ms...?"

"Umbridge," She said with a devious smirk. "Ms.Umbridge."

He smirked back. "Alright. The plan is as follows." He gestured to one of the people next to him. He didn't really know the plan, to be honest.

The man sighed. "We need you to have control over half of the country's population. They need to be made completely obedient. Only then will this country be to its full potential." The man rolled his eyes, but nobody noticed.

The man wondered what ever happened to freedom. But he chose not to say anything. He's too far in now.

Donald addressed the woman with the bad fashion choices. "So, as you can see, we do not need a weakling. If you know you're not prepared for this, leave now."

Dolores narrowed her eyes. She was strong, stronger than they would ever know. "Is there anybody in this room that is ready for death?"

The man who had explained the plan raised his hand. He has been dead inside for years now. Ever since 2013. He wanted out.

She raised her wand and cleared her throat. "Avada Kedavra!" She exclaimed, channeling her inner hate. A green light fell from her wand, hitting the man square in the chest. He slumped in his chair.

A bodyguard checked the man's pulse, only to find none. He shook his head at the President, signaling the man was dead.

Dolores was impressed with her display. To use the killing curse, you had to mean it. And she did. She would do anything to get to the top. She knew what she did was surely impress.

"Wonderful," Donald complimented. "Now, what to do with the body?"

"We can dress the body up like a celebrity and make it seem like they died?" Trump's VP suggested.

"But which celebrity?" Dolores pondered. If only she could suggest Harry Potter, but she doubted they were that informed of the wizarding world.

And in that moment, Donald Trump had the most evil smirk on his face.

"Miley Cyrus," he said.

In that moment, Dolores Umbridge believed him to be stupid. Making it seem like Miley died wouldn't do anything. The media would talk about for a few days before stopping. She wasn't that important.

But this wasn't her choice to make. When everyone in the room agreed with him, she followed along.

No need to make any unneccesary trouble, she figured.