Chapter 12 = Meeting with Dumbledore

As time dwindled, Cole elucidated the purpose of his visit to Minister Fudge.

"Minister Fudge, regrettably, we lack the manpower needed to reconstruct the Ministry of Magic. Would it be prudent to seek assistance from the Black family?"

The Ministry of Magic found itself unable to effectively oversee Knockturn Alley, a den of darkness. Nonetheless, Cole perceived an opportunity to assert control over it.

In this world, there exists both light and darkness, yet no member of the Black family serves within the Ministry of Magic.

The Wizengamot, the apex court of the wizarding world, consists of approximately fifty wizards, including the Minister of Magic and other high-ranking officials. Dumbledore is also among its members.

Pure-blood families, irrespective of their talents, are guaranteed representation within it.

While Cole was slated to inherit the Black family and consequently become a member, it still wasn't enough.

Fudge received the news without much surprise. Despite being appointed by Dumbledore, he recognized the indispensable role pure-blood families played in the Ministry of Magic's functioning.

"Is that Master Cole's proposition? I cannot make such decisions unilaterally."

Fudge wasn't inclined to relinquish control easily. Though the current Ministry of Magic wasn't entirely his own, he still retained certain privileges.

"The Black family is prepared to donate 50,000 gold galleons to aid in the Ministry of Magic's reconstruction. Furthermore, they are willing to dispatch a team of experienced wizards to serve as Aurors, assisting in the apprehension of Death Eaters. Their expertise is unmatched, wouldn't you agree?"

Cole smiled. His subordinates were undoubtedly seasoned. Their recent confrontation with the Wrightsledge family had showcased their combat prowess.

Upon hearing Cole's proposal, Fudge was naturally inclined to accept. Galleons were a valuable currency indeed.

Regarding the Aurors, they had already suffered considerable losses, with demanding work that few were willing to undertake, and meager pay.

"Naturally, the Black family's Aurors will be compensated accordingly, sparing the Ministry of Magic any financial concerns."

Cole stoked the fire further.

Fudge, the fool, assumed that since outsiders were unaware of this arrangement, he could once again exploit the situation.

"Hahaha, thank you, Mr. Cole, for your assistance. The Ministry of Magic will forever be indebted to the Black family's aid."

Before the secretary could even bring forth the black tea, Cole swiftly concluded the matter, departing the room under Fudge's scrutinizing gaze.

Back at home, Cole apprised John of the developments. While Wright was dependable, John was better suited for the position.

Thus, John and his pair of wizards from the Black family were installed as working Aurors within the Ministry of Magic.

Externally, not everyone was as naive as Fudge, but none dared to voice dissent.

For the next fortnight, Cole devoted himself to the reconstruction of Knockturn Alley, while Meira, aside from accompanying Cole to their chambers at night, spent her days in the basement engrossed in potion study.

Upon consolidating the resources of the Black family, Cole realized the extent of the enterprises Sirius had lost.

The family's dragon farm, three potion estates, and shops in Hogsmeade were all managed by outsiders.

The culprit behind these dealings was none other than Hogwarts, overseen by the renowned white wizard, Dumbledore.

Cole seethed with anger, harboring a desire to storm into Azkaban and exact vengeance upon Sirius.

Standing outside Hogwarts, Cole donned black wizard robes adorned with gold trim.

This esteemed wizarding institution in England stood adjacent to the Black Lake.

Gazing upon the school, Cole couldn't help but sigh. The four legendary wizards had indeed been astute in selecting such a locale.

"Mr. Black, it's been quite some time."

It was Professor McGonagall who addressed him. This austere professor regarded him with a gentle expression.

"Professor McGonagall, though many years have passed, you remain unchanged."

Earlier, Cole had dispatched a missive to Dumbledore requesting an audience, yet he was met unexpectedly by Professor McGonagall.

"Follow me; Dumbledore awaits."

Given that Hogwarts was still in session, students could be observed frolicking and bickering along the corridors. These young wizards were experiencing the pinnacle of their academic lives within the castle's confines.

Navigating the moving staircases, Cole observed the portraits adorning the walls, where countless ghosts and spirits flitted about, engaging in banter with the young wizards.

Upon arriving at Dumbledore's office, Professor McGonagall tapped her wand against the door's statue.

"Pile of cockroaches."

Professor McGonagall cast a resigned glance at Cole, evident that he was aware of the old headmaster's peculiar preferences.

Alone in the room, Cole beheld Dumbledore seated at his desk, partaking in snacks.

"Oh, Cole, do join me for some delectable treats. These are my favorite, though I must refrain from indulging further. As you know, old age has diminished my dental faculties."

"Principal, your fondness for sweets endures."

Seating himself at the table, Cole cast a glance towards Phoenix, who was preening his feathers, indifferent to everything else.

"I fondly recall your days in Slytherin. Tempus fugit, Cole."

Cole inwardly smiled. Dumbledore remembered the timid and vulnerable Cole, not the man before him.

"My time at Hogwarts was my happiest."

Dumbledore stood there, a smile playing upon his lips. Naturally, he was cognizant of Cole's exploits. However, as principal, he couldn't possibly keep tabs on every student, could he?

His focus remained fixed on Riddle.

"Cole, now that you've returned, let us consign the past to oblivion and forge ahead, shall we?"

"Indeed."

Cole averted his gaze, refusing to acknowledge the squirming cockroaches on the plate.

"You've accomplished much during your absence, Cole. With you at the helm of the Black family, Sirius can rest easy."

Cole knew that Dumbledore had been monitoring affairs within the wizarding world. His actions couldn't possibly elude the venerable headmaster's notice.

Simultaneously, he understood that as long as he didn't cross Dumbledore's moral boundaries, the headmaster would refrain from intervening.

Perhaps Dumbledore's self-imposed restraint stemmed from his encounters with the first Dark Lord.

"I merely seek to fortify the Black family. As for anything else, it holds no interest for me. My predecessor strayed from the righteous path."

Cole made it unequivocally clear that he harbored no inclination towards following Voldemort's footsteps. His senior's descent into madness, marked by the fragmentation of his soul, rendered him beyond redemption.

"What folly it would be to entertain such notions."

"That's commendable. The future lies in the hands of the younger generation. As for myself, I may journey to meet Merlin one day."

Cole regarded Dumbledore's words with skepticism. What does age signify, after all? Dumbledore could feasibly live for several more decades.

In the wizarding world, numerous individuals boasted lifespans extending into the triple digits, and Dumbledore's prowess afforded him the same longevity. One should never underestimate the might of a seasoned wizard.

"Principal, I've come today to enlist your assistance with a matter."

"Oh, I'm aware. Alas, it seems no young man has the patience

 to endure an old man's ramblings about days gone by."

Dumbledore's gaze, slightly clouded beneath his spectacles, bore into Cole, imbuing the room with an inexplicable weight.