With Barty Sr.'s promotion, the position he previously held as Head of Department also needed to be filled.
Percy was promoted, becoming the Head of the International Magical Law Office—a position with significant real power, especially in managing foreign entry and jurisdiction.
If it weren't for Percy's still-short career, Barty Sr. would've transferred him straight into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Unfortunately, this was met with strong opposition from Amelia.
Pierce didn't get a promotion. He knew he wouldn't stay in his current role for long; by next year at the latest, he'd be reassigned to the Wizengamot.
Oz became an Auror in the Auror Office and no longer needed to be out running around.
Her promotion was rather baffling. Tommy invited her to attend a banquet at the manor.
(A/N: Ok, most of the readers, for some unknown reaso,n started thinking that Lippi and Tommy were a thing, but no. In the chapter when Oz and Lippi were introduced, Lippin was the one who commented that if Tommy hadn't been bitten, Oz and Tommy would have been partners.
Plus:~ That too didn't suggest any romance. Partners as in Auror partners like how Moody and Tonks were...)
With her current position, Oz finally had the qualifications to attend such events.
She stood there, mouth agape, amazed to see those high-ranking Ministry officials clinking glasses in the manor—along with the pure-blood families and the wealthy elites. Every one of them had once been unreachable figures to her.
She had thought Tommy's mention of a banquet meant a casual dinner, but it turned out to be a grand feast for the big shots.
The host—Johnny Silverhand—wore a silver mask.
With Barty's rise to power, John successfully secured a tax exemption policy for the Silverhand Wine Cellar. It was basically the same as handing himself a pile of money.
Power transitions were always accompanied by immense profits.
Even if John said nothing, Barty would remember and make sure to reward him.
Inside Silverhand Manor, Barty Sr. had transformed into the new Minister for Magic.
He wore a specially tailored new robe, and the face that had been stern for so long finally broke into a genuine smile.
His long-held regret was finally fulfilled.
And all of it was thanks to one person.
John clinked glasses with him. Barty Sr. said gratefully, "Sir, I will always remember your help."
"Barty, today is a day for celebration. We should let go of some things," John replied, lightly tapping his champagne glass with Barty's and smiling leisurely. "You'll be quite busy from now on. I'll set aside a bottle of wine for you to enjoy when you have time."
His way of speaking put Barty at ease—not condescending, but more like friendly banter between equals.
Barty downed his wine, gave a hiccup, and an icy bubble floated out. He burst into laughter. "This wine is irresistible."
Pierce stood nearby, his face fixed with a smile, keeping a respectful three-step distance from the two.
Seeing that Barty was drunk, he stepped in at just the right moment to support him.
"Sir, I'll take the Minister to rest," he said.
"Pierce, I believe you'll become even more outstanding soon." John lifted his glass slightly, and Pierce bowed respectfully.
After sending Barty off, John's gaze scanned the crowd and landed on the somewhat nervous Old Jack.
He walked over with a smile. Seeing Jack's respectful expression, he said, "Old Jack, I'm glad you could make it."
"S-Sir Johnny Silverhand, it's an honor," Old Jack said, voice trembling slightly with emotion. "I never imagined that a werewolf could ever have a seat and a vote in the Ministry of Magic."
"Ahah~ Calm down, old friend," John said with a chuckle, brushing fireplace ash off Jack's robe. "You're a councilman now. Minister Crouch is planning to reform both the Werewolf Capture Unit and the Werewolf Registration Office. He's hoping I can recommend suitable candidates. I think Zoffie and Chudai would be excellent choices."
"My lord, is this true?"
Old Jack was even more excited than when he became a councilman.
The Werewolf Capture Unit was a department under the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, dedicated solely to hunting down werewolves.
Jack himself had nearly been caught once. That department had always represented discrimination against werewolves.
The Werewolf Registration Office wasn't any better. Almost no werewolves ever voluntarily registered—unless they were desperate to survive. Once their information was known, they were subject to constant surveillance by the Ministry.
Placing werewolves within those departments meant they were no longer treated as prey. Only criminal werewolves would be considered criminals. The rest could live normal lives.
Jack was so overwhelmed he nearly fainted. It was unbelievable.
"My Lord, how did you make this happen?" he asked.
"Power shifts, Old Jack. The werewolf community will become better. That, I promise you."
To John, werewolves weren't like other magical creatures.
They were victims of a curse—victims like Nagini.
There was no reason the victims of someone else's crime should bear the punishment.
He had discussed it with old Barty—they needed to use a few positions as bargaining chips to win hearts.
To ordinary wizards, these two posts didn't seem that important. Some might go their whole lives without encountering them even once.
But for werewolves, they were a godsend—comparable to becoming an Auror.
John solemnly handed the appointment letters to Old Jack and, in return, received a piece of news.
Lupin had approached Jack, hoping to recruit werewolves to their cause.
"My lord, I turned him down," Old Jack said with a clear conscience. "Dumbledore has never helped werewolves, so we won't join them."
Seeing how earnestly he explained, John felt genuinely moved.
"You're my friend, Old Jack. I'd never doubt you."
John gave him a warm hug. He hadn't expected Dumbledore's reach to extend all the way into the werewolf community.
The Order of the Phoenix needed allies—and so did the Death Eaters.
At the moment, most Death Eaters were in hiding. The Star Disciples were out searching and had already encountered one group ambush.
It was a retaliatory move by Death Eaters still in hiding. Leaderless, they were on the back foot. Voldemort hadn't shown himself to any of them.
"Tom Riddle, where the hell did you go?"
Swirling his wine glass, John gazed through the liquid at the tiny bubbles inside.
...
As for the position of Hogwarts Headmaster, John still had no clear plan.
But when it came to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, he did have an idea.
"Tommy, you go."
At those words, Tommy froze.
John continued casually, "You're a Hogwarts graduate. You're the most qualified to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Tommy gave a bitter laugh. "My lord, don't joke like that."
Him?
Teaching his own boss?
That was just absurd. He believed his skills were decent, but nowhere near good enough to be John's teacher.
His anxious expression made John chuckle. Knowing Tommy's character, he had only been teasing.
The real candidate wasn't Tommy—it was someone else entirely.
John shook his head. "In that case, forget it. Even if we were to send someone, it shouldn't be one of ours. It should be someone from the Ministry."
Though, the person he had in mind was connected to Tommy.
John stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Dumbledore holds too much power. We need someone to keep him in check."
"And they need to be obedient."
Dismissing Dumbledore required a proper procedure, and John planned to have the Ministry appoint an investigator.
Harry's use of magic outside school in front of muggles was the perfect entry point. Using that incident to press demands—there was no way even Dumbledore could refuse.
Originally, John had wanted to send Percy, but that would've hurt Percy's relationship with his family.
So he chose someone else. Looking to Tommy, he asked, "How capable is Oz Hield?"
Pierce had mentioned her in passing before, and John remembered Tommy's 'friend.'
As long as she was competent, John wouldn't mind opening up greater opportunities for her.
At the mention of Oz, Tommy immediately gave a thumbs up and said with conviction, "She's the best Auror. If it weren't for her background, she would've been Head of the Auror Office by now."
As soon as he finished, he realized John was staring at him. "Ehm.." He awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Then let her go. An Auror becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—there's no better choice," John said with a half-smile. "You sure seem to admire this 'friend' of yours."
"J-just an ordinary friend," Tommy mumbled, curling his toes in embarrassment.
John waved him off casually. "You play the good guy for your friend, but someone still has to be the villain."
To deal with a great man like Dumbledore, it was best to use a few small-time players.
John sifted through his mind, reviewing everyone who might be qualified—and realized it was harder than he expected.
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration struck.
A mental image of a matronly woman in pink appeared in his mind.
After thinking for a moment, he asked, "Do you remember that woman in pink we saw by the fountain in the Ministry lobby the day Barty was elected?"
Tommy thought back carefully, then made a face like he'd just swallowed a fly.
"Sir, don't tell me you're talking about Dolores Umbridge? If it's her, then that woman is unbearable."
Uncharacteristically, a rare expression of indignation appeared on Tommy's face as he said grimly, "Back when I was an Auror, I had to put up with that pink toad constantly. Her need for control was so extreme, she wanted to rule over everyone."
That comment actually made John's eyes light up.
Someone with that kind of obsessive control going up against Dumbledore?
Pfft~! That would be fucking hillarious! Perfect!
He leaned in with curiosity, prompting Tommy to say more about Umbridge. John wanted to know—was this villain qualified to stand on the same battlefield as the great Dumbledore?
What he heard was… quite something.
From Tommy's description, John came to understand that, at her core, Umbridge was the same type of person as Piers.
The difference was, even if Piers acted a bit like a petty bureaucrat, he never made people feel outright disgusted the way Umbridge did.
Piers, at most, ignored the small fry—he was the kind of man who only looked up to power.
But because of that, he never demanded too much from his subordinates—he simply focused more on how to navigate his relationships with high-ranking officials smoothly.
Umbridge, on the other hand, made it her mission to cause as much trouble as possible within the small sphere of power she possessed.
Taking all the outrageous things Rita Skeeter once fabricated about Amelia and applying them to Umbridge would still be considered merciful.
"Now that's a talent," John mused.
To him, she was the perfect scapegoat candidate.
With Umbridge's obsessive need for control, even Dumbledore might not be able to tolerate her.
If someone like her really pushed Dumbledore to the brink and he ended up killing her, John would honestly applaud.
He'd already sent Voldemort a little "gift." Time to prepare one for Dumbledore, too.
Snapping his fingers, John was just about to go look for Barty—
When suddenly, the black long-eared owl, Riddle, swooped down, carrying an envelope in its beak.
(1900 words🫠 )
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