Purity

Dolores's first memory of her mother, Felicity Umbridge, was that of a pretty woman flitting around in gossamer dress robes, always ready to go to the next ball.

"Darling." Felicity used to lean over her daughter as she spoke and Dolores always caught a waft of her elusive rose-scent. "Please, my darling Dolores, try to stay out of sight."

Dolores always nodded, and folded her hands in her lap over the delicate pink dress that her mother always forced her to wear. She knew she looked ghastly in the dress. But since it made her mother happy, Dolores wore it without complaint.

Whenever Umbridge Hall hosted one of its famous balls - purebloods only - Dolores was dressed up prettily by the house elves, and then told by her mother to keep out of sight. She supposed that it was for the best anyway. From the few glances Dolores had seen of her father John Umbridge, she could see that he and her mother made a beautiful picture. She simply wouldn't fit.

"Mummy," Dolores once asked when she was still very young, "why am I not pretty like you or Aunty?"

Felicity simply gave her daughter a light smile and murmured something about, "Your great-grandfather."

This information made no sense to Dolores at the time, but she filed it away neatly in her head anyway. She may not be pretty, but Dolores was sure that her mind was far more organised than anybody else she knew. Everything she heard was neatly tucked away in its correct place and nothing was forgotten. Even the pureblood etiquette book was memorised completely by the young Dolores at the age of five.

None of her young playmates were so educated. Dolores was positive of this fact. After all, she had access to the entire Umbridge library, which was vast. But then again, they were prettier than her. Dolores vowed that this wouldn't stop her. She would make up for whatever her great-grandfather did to inflict this physical appearance on her.

Dolores was somewhat surprised when the Sorting Hat placed her in Hufflepuff, citing her "almost maniac loyalty." She didn't think that she was that loyal. Dolores only wanted to make her family proud of her.

Felicity was disappointed when Dolores came home for Christmas, but she sensed that her mother didn't expect any better from her wayward daughter. She now had another daughter. A pretty, delicate child with silky, wavy hair. So unlike Dolores's messy curls. A child who was every bit as intelligent as Dolores herself.

Dolores hated her little sister.

She hated her for taking the little bit of love that her mother had thrown her carelessly over the years away. She hated her for having the love of her father that Dolores had always begged for. She hated her for simply being so adorable, such an attractive child, with such a kind, loving personality. But most of all, Dolores hated Sarah for liking her.

How dare the little upstart actually like her? Dolores fumed as she scribbled out her Charms essay, the quill cutting deep into the parchment. What was there to like about her anyway? She was ugly, for Merlin's sake! Even her mother could barely tolerate her.

When Dolores first heard of the word ulterior, she immediately decided that Sarah had an ulterior motive for liking her. After all, not even her fellow Hufflepuffs had many positive things to say about Dolores. She was quiet. Always alone. But smart. She always managed to get them house points.

Dolores knew that she was one of the most intelligent people in her year level. This gave her a brief warm feeling. She may not be pretty, but she was smart.

She decided to use her intelligence to find out what exactly Felicity had meant by that cryptic comment so many years before. Dolores suspected that her mother didn't even know that she still remembered. To her surprise, it was relatively easy to find her family tree in the library. After all, the Umbridge family was one of the most pureblood families in the wizarding world. Just under the Malfoys.

Or so she thought.

As Dolores traced the thin golden threads upwards from her name, she suddenly saw something on the maternal side of her family that made her blood turn cold.

"My great-grandfather," she whispered.

Her finger traced the tiny sigil next to his name.

Rudyard Easton.

There was a tiny picture next to all the names, and Dolores squinted at the one next to Easton's name. Her face paled. There was no question now where she had gotten her looks from.

"We have one of those in the family," Dolores whispered, her voice harsh and low in the silence of the library.

The tiny mark was discreet but unmistakable. It was the sign of the werewolf.

"What's the matter, Umbridge," a lazy drawl came from behind her.

Dolores slammed the book shut. "Malfoy," she said, voice shaking. "What do you want?"

Lucius Malfoy indicated towards the book she held in her trembling fingers. "What's the matter? Discovered some hidden family secret?"

Dolores bit down on her lip hard. "No," she whispered.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I took a look then." Lucius held out his hand for the book, and after a moment of hesitation, Delores handed it to him. His long aristocratic fingers flipped through it until he came to the spread of the Umbridge family tree. He traced upwards from the bottom. "Quite disappointing that you don't look like your mother and sister," he said, leering as he looked at the tiny photos. "In fact..." He stopped suddenly, eyes widening.

"There," Dolores said sullenly. "You've found my family secret. Happy?"

"You have a werewolf in the family?" Lucius sounded guarded.

"Yes," Dolores muttered.

To her surprise, Lucius gave her a sympathetic smile before his face became impassive once more. "It isn't your fault, you know."

"What?"

"It isn't your fault. That animal should have known better than to try to marry his way into influence." Lucius seemed to pause for a second before he pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. "I should know. We have some Veela," he spat out the word, "blood in our family." He gave her a wry smile. "I suppose I got the better end of the deal."

Dolores didn't need him telling her that. She had always known that she wasn't pretty. But to realise that it was because of some animal, some social-ladder climbing animal, was a blow almost too hard to bear. To her horror, she found words spilling out of her mouth. "It's all his fault," she choked out. "It's his fault that mother doesn't love me. It's his fault that...that I look like this."

Lucius gave her an awkward pat on the arm. "Remember that, Dolores," he said seriously. "Remember it. And make them pay." And then he left, with a quiet sweep of his robes.

And from that day forth, Dolores stopped hating her sister. Instead, she began to try to emulate the automatic graces that Sarah and Felicity had. She knew her attempts were clumsy, at best, but she was trying.

With gritted teeth, Dolores gave simpering smiles to the teachers and pitched her voice at the perfect pitch for a lady. She would prove that the blood from Easton would not stop her from succeeding. But moreover, once she had, she would stop this torment from ever happening to another child.

* * *

As Dolores found herself dragged into the Forbidden Forest by the centaurs, she briefly questioned the wisdom of her choice so many years ago. Yes, she had managed to claw her way up in the Ministry, finally getting a position as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Yes, she had even gained the position the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Dolores remembered the difficulty she first had trying to recruit others to her cause.

"They're dangerous," she said fervently as she handed out pamphlets to the other people in the lower echelons of the Ministry.

They simply gave her tight-lipped smiles and moved away. Avoiding her as if she was the dangerous one.

And then finally, one day, she had met another young rising star in the Ministry. A man by the name of Cornelius Fudge. It was he who taught her that sometimes silence was more effective than passionate words. And together they had risen through the Ministry ranks, quietly instating policies to protect the wizarding world who didn't even know that they had to be protected.

But still, Dolores knew that they had some way to go yet. As long as men like Dumbledore had stations of power, people would still be blinded to the inherent dangers of half-breeds. The pain they could cause pureblood families. The way they wreaked havoc.

Small branches cut her arms, and the wind whipped her face, as the centaurs kept galloping.

Faintly, Delores hoped that somebody would realise soon what a threat half-breeds were to the stability of the wizarding world.

If they needed an example, they could just look at the animals currently attacking her.

Her eyes fluttered shut.