Fudge's letter was overflowing with praise for Moriarty, expressing deep admiration and offering heartfelt congratulations for his victory in the All-European Wizarding Duel Competition. The flattery was almost excessive, betraying Fudge's eagerness to align himself with rising power.
Alongside the praise, Fudge subtly disclosed significant information: he had secured the backing of more than a dozen influential families, notably those led by the Piliwick, Minchum, and Ogden families. This signaled a clear intention to consolidate political influence through carefully cultivated alliances.
Toward the end of the letter, Fudge extended an invitation to Moriarty to attend a gathering at Fudge Manor in late July — a private assembly he described as a "party of those in power."
Moriarty couldn't help himself and burst into laughter upon reading the letter. The political maneuvering was transparent. He now fully understood how Fudge had managed to gather such substantial support within Britain. While Barty Crouch's unpopularity played a role, it was evident that Fudge's personal charm and shrewd calculations were key. He was the kind of man who knew how to get things done — a political survivor who played all sides.
There's a common misconception that the pure-blood families are the ruling elite of the magical world. In truth, that's only partially accurate.
While it's true that many pure-bloods possess immense wealth, they don't necessarily wield political power. In the British wizarding hierarchy, true power rests with a small number of high-ranking Ministry officials and the families behind them — the true ruling families.
Take, for example, the Gamp family — long obscured in history, yet deeply influential. Moriarty was aware of their heritage: the family had endured for over five centuries. Uric Gamp, the very first British Minister for Magic, hailed from this line.
Of course, most of the ruling elite descend from pure-blood families, and after centuries of interwoven influence, it's no surprise the two are often conflated. But the distinction remains critical.
The Crouch family, for instance, is among the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood lineages and once produced a Minister for Magic. Today, Barty Crouch Sr. serves as the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Lilith's family, the Piliwicks, are likewise pure-bloods. Her grandfather and great-grandfather both held senior positions at the Ministry. Though not among the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Piliwicks are undeniably a ruling family.
Leon Minchum's family is another case. Pure-blooded, politically entrenched, yet absent from the Sacred Twenty-Eight list. This blurs the lines further.
And then there's Dumbledore.
People are quick to admire Dumbledore's magical prowess but seldom reflect on his origins. Despite having a Squib sister, Dumbledore is, himself, pure-blood. In many ways, coming from Godric's Hollow, he is viewed by some as the true inheritor of Gryffindor's legacy.
Dumbledore has ample wealth and a formidable reputation, but he's uninterested in political office. If he desired it, he could've been Minister long ago.
Thus, the divide between the pure-bloods and the ruling elite is both subtle and significant. While they may unite during crises, friction abounds during mundane affairs.
Fudge, however, had pulled off a masterstroke. He'd gained favor from both factions — the pure-blood elites and the ruling families. With Dumbledore uninterested in ministerial power, the path was clear: the Minister's seat was effectively Fudge's to claim.
What amused Moriarty most was the timing. No sooner had Fudge attended the pure-blood gathering at Malfoy Manor than he was planning a parallel event — a political summit for the ruling elite!
Even before assuming the office, Fudge had his eyes set on dual consolidation — one hand grasping wealth, the other seizing power.
Had Dumbledore not been Hogwarts Headmaster, Fudge would've likely commandeered education policy the moment he stepped into the Minister's office.
After all, what does education symbolize? It represents the future.
Controlling Hogwarts is tantamount to controlling the trajectory of wizarding Britain.
And yet, strolling down Diagon Alley, who would suspect Fudge of such ambition?
Moriarty chuckled at the memory of Fudge's obsequious demeanor — all nods and bows — and quietly compared the Minister's aspirations to his own grand design. Their goals, surprisingly, overlapped.
Fudge feared Voldemort and Dumbledore. Moriarty feared neither.
In fact, Fudge's maneuverings had only made Moriarty's "hidden mastermind" plan that much more feasible.
In Moriarty's vision, Lockhart would wield public charm, Flint would maintain structural control, and now — he needed only to plant the seeds of influence at Hogwarts itself.
With the voyage complete, Moriarty returned to the castle and promptly sent out letters summoning his inner circle.
Three days later, in the grand hall, Moriarty reclined upon his throne, watching his three trusted subordinates with satisfaction.
On his left sat Lockhart, noticeably leaner and tanner after months away. His usual flamboyance had mellowed, replaced with a confident composure.
To Moriarty's right sat old Flint, wizened and white-haired, yet crackling with vitality and authority. His pride was evident as he repeatedly glanced toward Marcus, seated just below him on the right.
Marcus's position confirmed it: he was Moriarty's right-hand man, an honor that visibly pleased his father.
Marcus leaned forward and cautiously suggested, "Master, I think Jericho can be trusted too…"
"Jericho…" Moriarty's eyes lit up with the image of a broom-riding American cowboy. "He's loyal and competent. But this isn't his time. When we begin operations in America, he'll be critical."
Marcus nodded and fell silent. Lockhart, ever eager, raised his hand as though in a classroom: "Master! When you move into America, please take me along. I gave a lecture at Ilvermorny recently — the students there were simply marvelous!"
"I'm not discussing foreign affairs today," Moriarty said, rapping the table. "Today, we focus on home affairs."
He addressed them directly.
"Lockhart — starting tomorrow, I want you to publicly endorse Dumbledore's candidacy for Minister of Magic.
Old Flint — your family will throw full public support behind Fudge. No matter what threats or bribes come your way, your stance must remain pro-Dumbledore.
Marcus — your task is to write personal letters to every student, professor, even Filch and Hagrid. Include the ghosts if possible.
Explain how your views diverge from your father's, and announce your support for Dumbledore's campaign. Encourage your fellow students to campaign for him!"
All three men sat stunned. It took several moments before they fully absorbed the implications.
Lockhart wasn't a political strategist. Marcus's mind revolved around magical creatures, not elections. Only old Flint, seasoned and wise, grasped the significance.
"Young Master… you mean to… play both sides of the election?"
"Do as instructed," Moriarty said sternly. "No matter who wins, we win."
Lockhart looked baffled, Flint wary, and Marcus sincere yet lost.
When Moriarty's sharp gaze met theirs, Lockhart straightened with renewed energy. Flint composed himself with deep breaths. Marcus simply remained earnest.
"I may not understand the strategy," Lockhart said, toasting with champagne, "but I follow the young master's will!"
Flint bowed respectfully. "The Flint family remains unwavering in our support."
Marcus added, "Whatever you say, Master."
"Very well," Moriarty nodded. "Old Flint, stay. We need to discuss the July 15th pure-blood party. Your cooperation will be essential."
The others exited, and Moriarty turned serious.
"All the Sacred Twenty-Eight have sent me letters. But some are extinct — like the Prewetts and the Gaunts. Others have heirs in Azkaban — like the Blacks and the Lestranges.
How are these families writing to me? Did they employ ghostwriters among the Dementors?"
Flint chuckled grimly.
"Pure-blood traditions run deep. Intermarriages mean distant relatives often act on a family's behalf. Also, many homes still house ancestor portraits, and it's common to consult them when composing important correspondence.
This pure-blood party is organized by Lucius Malfoy. No doubt he visited the ancestral homes of the Blacks and Lestranges to consult the portraits before sending invitations."
"And the Gaunts?" Moriarty pressed.
Flint paused, then sighed. "That's… complicated. You know the Dark Lord's lineage. No one dares claim the Gaunt name lightly. If someone sent a letter under that banner, it wasn't out of respect — it was likely to provoke you."
"I figured as much," Moriarty said coldly, dropping the letters onto the table. "Are all these families so foolish?"
Flint grew uneasy. "May I ask… what is your opinion of pure-bloods — and of us?"
Noting Moriarty's raised brow, he added hastily, "I mean us as in you and me — not the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You're also a true pure-blood, after all!"
"No need to clarify," Moriarty replied coolly. He gestured for Luke to bring him honeywater while sipping his Blue Mountain coffee. "I hold no personal bias against pure-bloods.
But pure-bloods dominate the magical world. I want them to enact my will. If they can't, they'll be replaced — by other pure-bloods. And if they fail, then we replace them, too."
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