ALL NOVEL Chapter 431: Ambition
After washing her hands in preparation for lunch, Oleandra splashed some water from the bathroom sink's tap onto her pale face, staring at her reflection in the rectangular mirror on the wall. Ever since she had lost her original heart and been forced to take in the Dusk Elf's, Oleandra had gone through more than just magical changes— her form had begun slowly changing into that of a Dusk-Elf's.
Luckily for Oleandra, Dusk-Elves were tall and endowed with a sort of ethereal beauty, unlike their frumpy House-Elf/Light-Elf brethren. As fellow Fae Folk, they somewhat resembled Greater Fairies; only without the insect-like antennae and wings.
At any rate, Oleandra didn't like how the tip of her ears had begun to taper into points, but other than that, she actually welcomed the other changes that she was experiencing. Her skin was fairer and smoother than it had ever been; it even seemed to be emitting a faint glow, upon closer look. Her features were sharper, and even though the dark circles under her eyes made her look tired, her eyes themselves were just as striking as they had always been…
"I'm sorry, but do you not have a Ministry to lead? Paperwork to fill out?" came Professor Tofty's quavering voice from outside the women's bathroom. "Perhaps you'd like to attend to your ministerial duties, instead of insisting on supervising Miss Greengrass's O.W.L.s?"
"Everything I do is for the Ministry," Scrimgeour insisted. "Make no mistake, Tofty— we are at war— and it is one that we will not win without competent soldiers."
Oleandra pricked up her ears; it sounded like Scrimgeour had run into Professor Tofty after getting Percy to fetch sandwiches for him, because they were now arguing right outside the bathrooms.
"Preposterous! Are you listening to the words coming out of your mouth?" Professor Tofty fumed. "You can't be seriously considering using children as soldiers— Dumbledore would never allow it!"
"Ha! You would be shocked at the lengths Dumbledore is willing to go to!" spat Scrimgeour, his voice tinged with anger. "The man won't let me speak to Potter? He won't share his little secrets? No matter! Let's see how he plans to defeat Voldemort, by throwing an ordinary boy at the problem!"
From the very start, Scrimgeour's words had made it crystal clear to Oleandra that he was only interested in using her— for her magical might, and for her image. He had gone to great lengths to publicize her defeat of Voldemort to give his people hope… while simultaneously downplaying the embarrassing fact that the Ministry— in other words, full-grown adults— were incapable of replicating a bunch of teenagers' feats.
Indeed, Scrimgeour was playing a dangerous balancing act, and to hold his narrative together, he absolutely needed Oleandra by the Ministry's side to add credence to his words— for the greater good, of course.
Simultaneously, Oleandra herself needed to play the political game and use Scrimgeour for all he was worth— she had Sorted into ambitious Slytherin, after all. She had her own agenda; her end goal would be restoring magic to the Britain Isles, which was something she doubtlessly wouldn't be able to do alone…
Furthermore, even if she could beat an unprepared Voldemort four-on-one, that did not guarantee she would be capable of repeating this feat facing Voldemort, his Death Eaters, and an army of Heliopaths, all at the same time— she would need all the help she could get.
"Phew…" Oleandra forced herself to calm down by taking a few deep breaths.
She waited until she could no longer hear the two men arguing in the corridor, and once her heart had ceased hammering in her chest, she left the women's bathroom and re-entered the testing room. Her own prophecies had shaken her to her very core, but she could ill afford to appear weak in front of the Minister…
As soon as Oleandra entered the room, she spotted a familiar face. Percy Weasley, the Minister's personal aide!
"Long time no see, Oleandra!" said Percy eagerly; he all but ran at her, brandishing a sausage roll in his fist. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got you this."
Despite Oleandra and Harry having saved him in their second year at Hogwarts, Percy had done his fair share of badmouthing them during Umbridge's tenure as headmistress, but luckily for him, Oleandra had never heard any of it, so she still had a positive opinion of him.
"Thanks, Weatherby," said Oleandra, as she accepted the pastry.
It was almost comical how quickly Percy's face fell.
"It's Weasley," said Percy in dismay. "You know that."
"I'm just taking the piss," said Oleandra with a small laugh.
Since she had spent the previous Christmas with the Weasleys, Oleandra knew that Percy had become estranged from the rest of his family; by getting carried away by his ambitions and choosing to side with the Ministry against Dumbledore. While she couldn't condone his choices, Oleandra couldn't fault him. She knew what it was like to aspire to greatness, and to have difficult parents…
"Ahem," coughed Scrimgeour.
"What I believe the Minister is trying to say," said Professor Tofty, as he shot him a venomous glare, "is that he is quite the busy man. Unless you have any objections, Miss Greengrass, we'll move on to the next O.W.L., once you've finished your food; you have yet to be tested on Study of Ancient Runes, History of Magic and Astronomy…"
Oleandra took a dainty bite from her sausage roll and swallowed it, before dabbing her lips with a napkin to wipe off any crumbs.
"We can do Astronomy right now," she answered. "I've memorized the night sky, so there's no need to wait until nightfall."
At this point, Professor Tofty had seen enough of Oleandra's capabilities that nothing she said surprised him any more; if she were to claim that she could pluck the moon from its orbit and swallow it, he would take her words as truth.
"Very well," said Professor Tofty, as he flicked his wand towards his discarded bag, causing a star chart to zoom out of it and land on one of the room's many tables. "Then, we shall move on to Study of Ancient Runes next— I do believe the Minister is starting to lose his patience…"
Naturally, Scrimgeour was incredibly interested in the type of magic that had brought down Voldemort himself…