As she went on making small talk with the three Death Eaters as they waited for someone to bring them Dumbledore's inheritance, Oleandra still could hardly come to terms with how easily they'd accepted that all she wanted now was to atone for the crime of defying the Dark Lord and to join his cause.
Yaxley was a bit of an idiot, but Nott and Rookwood were both sharp-minded Wizards and experts in their respective fields— the former an Alchemy prodigy known across Europe as the man closest to Nicholas Flamel, the latter a magical researcher who had once worked in the Department of Mysteries on top-secret assignments.
And yet, they believed what they wanted to believe— that such a beautiful, young, and talented Pure-Blooded Witch could possibly want something other than the ascension of the Pure-Blooded over all others. It only went to show that no matter how clever one was, one could always be fooled by their own misconceptions.
"Ah, that should be it, unless I'm mistaken," said Yaxley, as the door to his office swung open. "Thank you, Dolores— bring it here, on my desk."
A short, squat witch carrying a wooden box shuffled into the room, her eyes fixed firmly on her shelf-like bosom, as if to avoid meeting the gazes of the illustrious characters she served. She walked past Oleandra without even glancing at her and placed the box on Yaxley's desk.
"W-will that be all, Mr Yaxley?" stammered Umbridge, her tiny eyes furtively darting up.
Oleandra could only stare at the woman in shock.
Dolores Umbridge had put on a considerable amount of weight— a noticeable amount, even though she had already been portly, when Oleandra had had the displeasure of becoming acquainted with her, two years earlier. Her once vibrantly pink, velvety robes had faded considerably and were now covered in oily stains, and judging by the worn fabric around the marks, she had taken a coarse brush to the delicate cloth in a fruitless attempt to clean them off.
"No, actually, stay here a while longer," said Yaxley, sounding vaguely amused. "This is the perfect occasion to introduce our friends to the campaign I've been working on, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He glanced at Oleandra. "You wouldn't mind waiting a tad longer to open your inheritance, would you?"
Umbridge froze as her gaze fell upon Oleandra. A look of pure vitriol sparked in her tiny, piggish eyes, and she opened her mouth as if to speak— but then she shivered in fright and returned to trying to stare holes into her toes… were she capable of seeing them in the first place.
"Professor Umbridge, you slimy toad," said Daphne, her voice dripping with distaste. "You had me expelled. I've always wondered what became of you."
Yaxley gulped loudly. He had displeased the Dark Lady, so he needed to explain his plan as quickly as possible before her anger turned against him!
"We all know the so-called Muggle-Born aren't truly Wizards and Witches, but undeserving Muggles who've stolen their powers through deceit and trickery," he said loudly, drawing everyone's attention back to himself. "It's just that we've never had proof to support our claims… until now."
Oleandra winked at Umbridge, who had turned her seething gaze in her direction once again. I've taken your magic once already, her eyes seemed to say. Care to find out what else you stand to lose if you speak up now?
"Not content with burdening magical families with Squibs, Muggles have now taken to stealing magic from full-grown witches, like Dolores here!" continued Yaxley, his enthusiasm renewed. "The magical world must be made to understand that Mudbloods pose a clear and present danger to civilised society! Look here— I've had Travers, Head of the new Muggle-born Registration Commission I've founded, think up some slogans…"
Yaxley reached into a drawer and pulled out a few crimson pamphlets, which he passed around to the others. The front cover featured an artist's rendition of Daphne's face at the heart of a rose, strangled by a vicious-looking, needle-toothed weed. Flipping the pamphlet over, Oleandra found a caricature of the sad state Umbridge now found herself in without her magic.
"Mudbloods," Daphne read out loud, "and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society."
Oleandra felt a twinge of guilt. If she hadn't given them ammunition by stealing Umbridge's Magical Circuits, the Ministry could never have produced such a hateful piece of propaganda. If anyone died as a result of disinformation, then their deaths would surely be on her, she thought.
"It's part of this new, five-step campaign we've devised to fulfil the Dark Lord's long‑held wish to 'purify' the Wizarding World," Yaxley said, his voice trembling with nervous excitement. "First: teach the younger generation to fear Mudbloods. Second: sow doubts and turn our enemies on one another. Third: round up and interrogate known and suspected Mudbloods. Fourth: subject them to summary judgement in the commissions we've set up. And fifth: forcefully re‑educate those fit to become Heliopaths— and execute the rest."
Yaxley looked expectantly in Daphne's direction.
"Do as you will," said Daphne, scowling at Umbridge. "Just get this toad out of here. I can't stand to look at her any longer than I already have."
"Do you have wax in your ears, woman?" Yaxley thundered almost instantly, causing Umbridge to squeal in fright. "The Dark Lady gave you an order! Out, now!"
Oleandra watched with a complicated expression as the squat woman almost tripped over her own fat feet in her haste to flee Yaxley's office. Umbridge squeezed her portly frame through the doorway and vanished from sight.
"Good, that woman was starting to annoy me," Rookwood rumbled, not even waiting until she was out of earshot to call for her death. "Honestly, you'd be doing her a favour by having her killed with the rest, Yaxley."
"All in good time," said Yaxley, smiling thinly. "As distasteful as she is, she still has her uses."
And with that distraction out of the way, they all remembered why Umbridge had come in the first place: to deliver Oleandra's inheritance.
"Well, let's see what old Dumbledore decided to leave Miss Greengrass," Yaxley said, reaching into the wooden box on his desk and retrieving a book and frowning. "…what in Merlin's name…?"
"What's the matter, Yaxley?" asked Nott, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing seditious, I trust…?"
Wordlessly, Yaxley flipped through the book's pages before snapping it shut and turning the front cover towards them.
Oleandra blinked.
The title read: The Complete Guide to the Trees of Britain, Ireland, and Northern Europe.
"Are we quite certain Dumbledore didn't mean for my sister to have this?" Oleandra asked, almost at loss for words. "Honestly, what the Hel was he thinking…?"