Millicent Bagnold (fuelledbylattes) wrote in an_ill_wind, @ 2009-03-15 13:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | - 1979/11 november, albus dumbledore, millicent bagnold |
Who: Millicent Bagnold and Albus Dumbledore
When: Late November, 1979
Where: Millicent's office at the ministry
What: Dumbledore and Millicent discuss the state of the ministry
Rating: PG-13
Between her many, many years spent as a auror, and the last three spent as head of the MLE, Millicent Bagnold had seen more than her fair share of conflict and deception. She knew enough to see that the current minister, Otis Wilde, was frightened to death of the escalation of the war. Voldemort was anxious. He wanted the ministry. Wilde was a brilliant man, but he was also 73; unlike Dumbledore he had not improved with age and Millicent could see that paranoia had taken him over. Wilde was going to step down after only five years in office. It was very, very disheartening.
Poor Otis, thought Millicent, shaking her head and sighing as she fingered the handle on her coffee mug distractedly. She was sitting in her office, still, at quarter past seven on a Friday night, debating the future of the ministry, and of their idiotic excuse for retaliation against Voldemort's dark armies. Who could even call it war? Voldemort was, as the muggles would would say, steamrolling over every single thing that the government attempted to throw at them. Death was everywhere, glowing green skulls and snakes leered menacingly in dreams and reality, muggles were being massacred, and everyone at the ministry could sense the unrest at Azkaban. As soon as Voldemort asked, the dementors would go, and what would be left? Anarchy. Riots. Death, death, death. The end.
The only stronghold left was the government, and Dumbledore's little side-project that she wasn't supposed to know anything about. She was no Dumbledore, undoubtedly, but she was a talented and perceptive witch--she saw the evidence of rebellion, however small yet still so significant. Dumbledore hit the bastards where it hurt; the homes of suspected members of Voldemort's inner circle (those unprotected by a layer of wards so thick they were their own dimension, and even those that were), infiltrating galas and setting the damn place on fire, appearing at potential attacks and leaving culprits behind for the ministry to apprehend...
Millicent couldn't say she approved, but they clearly knew something that she and the ministry did not, and who could really argue against anyone making a difference? Otis Wilde was too busy fitting his tail between his legs to pay attention, while she, Barty Crouch, Alastor Moody and Rufus Scrimgeour were about ready to burst with rage. The ministry needed to stay strong. They couldn't lose face. They couldn't be infiltrated and taken over. Dumbledore's group couldn't be exposed, not while the wizarding world so desperately needed protection.
"Good Evening, Millicent," came a quiet voice from the doorway, startling Millicent from her musing. Looking up she saw it was Dumbledore, looking grave and tired.
"Evening, Albus. Come in, take a seat," she told him, waving her arm. "You look almost as lost as I feel."
Dumbledore took the offered seat, sighing as he did so. "I would like to say not," he replied, crossing his legs and straightening his glasses. "I'm afraid that the ministry is at an impasse, Millicent. Otis Wilde has owled me, begging me to take over the ministry. He believes that I will, and I quote, 'save the wizarding world from certain doom'."
"And you don't believe him," Millicent nodded.
"Indeed. For perhaps not the reasons you think, but no. It is much more convoluted. I can no more easily step in now and make it all go away than I could in the beginning. Voldemort is stronger in different ways. He appears to be one step ahead of us at every turn. I also fear that there is something darker than all of this already in motion."
"How do you mean?" Millicent questioned, quirking an eyebrow and leaning forward slightly in her chair. "A weapon of some sort, perhaps? Or the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Something worse, I believe. I can't be sure. Voldemort has always been so obsessed with identity and power and the dark arts. I fear that this combination of preoccupations can only result in something... terrible," Albus explained. "Otis has lost confidence in his own government. He will announce his retirement whether I agree to succeed him or not."
"Yes," Millicent agreed. "He seems to feel that it is futile to press on again You-Know-Who. He's been so shaken since the death of those children in August..."
"Mmm," Dumbledore murmured. "That is why I'm here, Millicent."
She blinked, unsurprised. Millicent had been expecting this. "I thought you might suggest it," she admitted. "Barty has, as well. He would be able to step in and take over control at the MLE. Otis wouldn't have me take over, at least not a succession. He is like an old muggle man, I swear to Salazaar, trying to push women out of government and into the kitchen. Would you believe he told Amelia to invest in high heeled shoes the other day? 'If you absolutely have to be here, Miss Bones, could you at least dress more femininely?' Honestly. I have respect for Otis' capabilities, but certainly not his sense of tact or entitlement."
"I will move for a vote in the Wizengamont," Dumbledore said. "If I am refusing to step in myself, at least we will be able to provide an opportunity for those more suited to the position to step up. We cannot lose the ministry. I will do what I can in the meantime. Would you take over, Millicent? If you were able?"
"Absolutely," she replied without hesitation.