Moriarty introduced the concept of joint education—an initiative designed to establish a foundation for future entry into the international magical community. According to the ultimate task dictated by the system, Moriarty's goal is to become the hidden mastermind behind the magical world, a position that transcends the boundaries of Britain's magical society.
The groundwork had to begin now, with long-term returns in mind.
The joint education proposal also carried significant implications for the present moment.
Initially, the Hogwarts Mutual Aid Foundation was rejected by the Board of Governors, led by Lucius Malfoy. Their justification was that the twelve governors already contributed a substantial number of Galleons annually to Hogwarts—an amount supposedly sufficient for daily operations, staff remuneration, and student subsidies.
A seemingly valid excuse—though the governors did make generous donations.
However, if Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic were to implement a joint education initiative, the associated costs would be tremendous.
When that day came, Moriarty was certain none of the school governors would dare oppose the Mutual Aid Foundation. They'd likely go so far as to plead with Lockhart to champion it.
Moriarty's overarching strategy was transparent to him. The Mutual Aid Foundation was a ploy to maneuver around the goblins, while the joint education plan served as a bridge between him and the international magical community.
Though the two plans appeared unrelated, both were conceived and orchestrated by Moriarty's inner circle.
Now, the leading pure-blood families began to see the deeper picture, and their gazes toward Moriarty brimmed with intrigue.
From enticing two pure-blood families with wand sets, to roping Fudge into the Ministry's web, to introducing the joint education concept—Moriarty had skillfully maneuvered the twelve governors into alignment.
In just ten minutes, Moriarty had nearly turned the pure-blood faction into his personal Slytherin House.
The Sacred Twenty-Eight were like his juniors now. And Fudge? He was practically another Filch by comparison.
This realization left the pure-bloods deeply unsettled. When had they last been led by a boy?
Yet they couldn't deny that Moriarty's proposals were not only viable but immensely profitable and reputation-boosting.
Whether aligned with Lucius or Arthur, no faction among the pure-bloods found sufficient grounds to obstruct Moriarty's initiatives.
So…
All eyes shifted to Cornelius Fudge.
It was time for him to take a stand.
Lucius addressed Fudge with diplomatic courtesy, "Minister, you remain a public servant of the Ministry of Magic. Regardless of our views, it's imperative that you make the final assessment."
Put away that pompous smile, Fudge!
Fudge fumed internally—this was the second time he'd seen those greedy looks from the pure-bloods—and still, he had no choice but to maintain a civil demeanor.
"My dear Lucius, I'm gratified to see such respect and support for the Ministry. Personally, I approve of Mr. Moriarty's proposal. However—however…"
His tone twisted through loops, like a corkscrew, until he landed softly: "Every gift has its price. Mr. Moriarty's gift is too generous. I fear neither the Minister of Magic nor the Ministry itself can afford it."
Moriarty wasn't surprised by Fudge's hesitation. Setting down his goblet, he tapped the table with two fingers—tap, tap.
"The Ministry, Hogwarts, the pure-bloods, and magic itself," Moriarty said, fixing Fudge with his grey-eyed gaze. "Only I can unify those four pillars."
The pure-bloods glanced at one another uneasily.
"Grindelwald managed something similar once," Moriarty continued, "but his anti-Muggle ideology drove a wedge between him and Dumbledore. That's what unraveled his plans."
He paused, then shifted topics: "Speaking of Muggles, I propose that whoever ascends as Minister of Magic must promote Arthur Weasley. His expertise in Muggle affairs is unmatched."
Arthur perked up, startled. As of now, he was a low-ranking clerk in the Office for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts.
But Moriarty didn't acknowledge him further. "Salazar Slytherin once warned me to remain vigilant against all non-magical beings. That warning may be the very reason he created the Chamber of Secrets."
At the mention of the Chamber, everyone present leaned forward, captivated. As Hogwarts alumni, they had all heard the legend—it tugged at their nostalgia.
"Besides Grindelwald, the only other wizard capable of uniting the four elements was Voldemort. But he failed to balance them—his obsession with magical supremacy drove him to madness."
Moriarty's tone quickened, the words flying like rapid-fire spells—bam, bam, bam—each phrase striking the core.
The pure-bloods felt dizzy, breathless, as though the air had been sucked from the room.
"Lastly, let's consider Dumbledore."
A collective exhale. Voldemort was beyond reason, but Dumbledore—Dumbledore could be reasoned with.
Only Fudge stiffened. Moriarty's opinion of Dumbledore could shift the entire room.
"Dumbledore is a complex man. I can't fully explain him in a few words. But I do believe that if he were Minister of Magic, he'd dare to delegate authority."
The pure-bloods aligned with Arthur nodded in agreement. Dumbledore's name began to gain traction.
Alarmed, Lucius rose to deflate the momentum. "Headmaster Dumbledore's idea of delegation includes hiring a half-giant as gamekeeper and a half-vampire as professor, does it not?
Imagine what sort of magical creatures would flood the Ministry under his rule."
Pansy Parkinson's father and Theodore Nott's father joined in, mocking Dumbledore's choices.
Moriarty cleared his throat. "Surely Dumbledore understands the difference between running a school and leading a government?"
Lucius faltered. Moriarty cast a glance at Fudge and continued, irritated, "How Dumbledore runs the Ministry is irrelevant to me. What matters is that he will approve our proposal—because we are on the side of justice."
"Indeed!" Mr. McMillan chimed in. The wand sets were for the Auror Corps, and joint education was a long-term vision. Dumbledore had no reason to oppose either.
Still, the pure-bloods hesitated. Dumbledore's strength made them uneasy—he was not someone they could easily manipulate.
Choosing Fudge meant short-term gains and wealth, but Fudge was reluctant to grant them power.
Choosing Dumbledore meant fewer immediate rewards, and future outcomes would depend entirely on his goodwill.
Yet the Moriartys were pure-bloods too.
And Moriarty, though friendly toward half-bloods, had thus far favored the pure-blood families.
So when Moriarty came of age, he could easily be nominated as Minister of Magic. Fudge or Dumbledore would no longer be relevant.
But Moriarty had no intention of stepping into the limelight. He was grooming someone else to stand at the forefront—and at present, that candidate was Cornelius Fudge.
Moriarty leaned forward and pressed once more: "I believe it's time to choose. One word from you, Minister, and a new era begins. Yes or no?"
Fudge stared back, searching every pure-blood face as if burning their likenesses into his soul.
"I think we're rushing things," he muttered, hiding his panic behind a brittle smile. "We've talked too long. I've worked up quite the appetite! Lucius, would you be so kind as to summon your diligent house-elf for some iced honey water?"
Moriarty smirked. Fudge was stalling—still clinging to a lifeline, still hoping the ruling families would back him.
At month's end, Fudge Manor was scheduled to host a "Power Summit." If Fudge could secure the ruling family's support, he might stand a chance against Moriarty's faction.
Lucius and the others saw through the delay. He signaled Dobby to serve refreshments.
Dobby entered, accompanied by Luke, who carried a newspaper bundle. "Master! Master! The latest editions of the Daily Prophet and The Naysayer! You instructed me to bring them the moment they were released!"
Luke's voice rang with pride. Not even Malfoy Manor could keep him from fulfilling his young master's orders.
Moriarty took the papers, scanning the headlines with a deliberately shifting expression.
Lucius peered over his shoulder. "Strange—since when did the Daily Prophet publish evening editions?"
Luke snapped, "Mr. Lucius, perhaps you should discipline your house-elf, Dobby? He's lazy and unmotivated!"
Lucius's face darkened. Not only had Dobby defied him, but he was being mocked—by another elf, no less!
But any reprimand was forgotten when his eyes caught the bold headline:
"Gilderoy Lockhart, celebrated bestselling author, publicly endorses Albus Dumbledore's candidacy for Minister of Magic during a July 15th appearance in Diagon Alley!"
Lucius blinked. "What? Lockhart? Dumbledore?"
The other pure-bloods closed in. Moriarty passed the article around.
Arthur Weasley read aloud excitedly: "Lockhart declared to fans that Dumbledore played a pivotal role in shaping his career. He even teased two upcoming works—From Hogwarts to the Ministry and The Headmaster and the Minister, both inspired by Dumbledore!"
Mr. McMillan added, "Lockhart's past works caused a national sensation. His talent for narrating the feats of powerful wizards is unmatched. Public support is already pouring in—for both Lockhart and Dumbledore!"
Many witches and wizards had already voiced…
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