Thanks go out to my beta Pal-Draconix for his work with my random muse and writing schedules.
Magical Menagerie- Diagon Alley
Dolores Umbridge was feeling the smallest bit concerned when her business partner failed to arrive on the pre-established date and time. Working with the ministry was all well and good, but it could never truly capture her interest. Years ago she'd stumbled upon the perfect working arrangement to allow her dreams to unfold before her feet.
She was waiting in the main room of the Magical Menagerie. Today it was closed to business as a new shipment of Kneazel kittens were being supplied to the shop. They were being checked by the owner to assure their quality and intelligence.
It had been her dream since Hogwarts to breed Kneazels, regardless of the fact that they could not stand to be anywhere near the conniving girl. The simple fact that Kneazels were incredibly rare and expensive was another obstacle. One that after a great deal of research, and the timely discovery of her business partner, was an obstacle left behind.
The cats, known as Kneazels, are a rather rare breed for several reasons. One, they have very few kittens over a long life cycle. Two, only very few know the history of how the first breeding pair were created. Three, the ministry carefully maintains the records of all Kneazels and their bloodlines.
Those last two might seem a bit odd, but they are indeed inter-related. Kneazels are kept carefully monitored due to their origins. Although the stringent monitoring has been relaxed since Madame Umbridge saw fit to 'streamline' the Magical Creatures Department at the ministry. With the Minister's praise at doing away with such an 'unnecessary' area such as monitoring cats of all things.
Now Madame Umbridge was making a shiny galleon from selling off her grown Kneazels in preference to her kittens.
Her partner was rather set on breeding Krets of all things. Nasty little beasts, but then Deloris herself never had to deal with them. Her kittens were all she wanted.
Becoming impatient with the owner's, longer than normal, testing, the toad like woman moved to the counter. Intending to peer into the back room, she slumped to the countertop after being struck with a blue curse.
Some time later…
Regaining consciousness was a slow and painful experience for the Minister's assistant. She found herself thoroughly bound, by iron chains, to an ornate oaken chair. Her arms were snug against the padded armrests, and her legs were firmly chained to the wooden legs. If it weren't for the limited circulation to her extremities caused by the chains it would be a very comfortable chair.
Opening her mouth to demand her release she found that no sound issued forth. Looking around for the perpetrators of her captive state she found a disturbing sight. The room was shrouded in shadows allowing her to see nothing but where she herself was sitting.
As if only waiting for this realization a resounding voice echoed around the room.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge," The voice came from every direction, "You have been determined as an accomplice in the crimes of one Marge Dursley ne Dumbledore. One chance is given to confess your transgressions. What say you?"
Taking a moment to compose her self, and finding she could now speak, she answered the disembodied voice.
"Hem, hem. I do not know what you are talking about. I am the Assistant to the Minister of magic. You have no right to do this to me." Sitting as primly as one could in the restraints she waited for them to release her.
Minutes passed before a projected image appeared before her. It was a pensieve memory of one of the early works she'd perpetrated with her business partner.
She watched as the remembered image of her self imperioed two young children, no more than eight or nine, into drinking the potion she'd lavishly spent time brewing. Oh, it took far more time for those first test subjects to change, but change they did, into breedable Kneazles. That was the history behind the most sought after pets in the magical world.
'They were worthless mudbloods, easily found through the magical sensors at the ministry. I did the world a service.' The ghastly woman thought to herself as she dismissed the images as false.
"We found the families of those children you abducted for this twisted series of experiments. You did not obliviate your presence well enough from the mundanes. We have large enough stores of evidence to see the harshest punishment delivered to you." The voice boomed from the surrounding darkness.
"You have no right to take action against me. I am a British Citizen and have the right to a fair trial before the Wizemgott." Amongst whom she held some sway.
"You made a fatal mistake. Dolores Umbridge. One of those children was an American Citizen." That last statement sent chills up and down her spine.
'Mundanes. That's what the Americans called the muggles.' She thought in growing horror. 'No, this can't be.'
"Dolores Umbridge, as per the Wizarding accord of 1785 you are now under the judicial authority of the American Department of Magic. May god have mercy upon your soul. For your actions you will receive none from us."
At that point energy rushed through the chains binding Dolores Umbridge and she lost consciousness. Only to awaken in the magical prison section 500 feet below the mundane prison of Alcatraz . Never to be heard from again.
Marge faced the charges of doing such vile experiments on British muggle born citizens. I'd say that was a treasonous thing to do. Dolores had the unfortunate circumstance to choose a foreign muggle born to experiment on. Would she know the difference between a muggle-born surname and an American one? Or take the time and care to find out who she was abducting?