Forced By OAA To Be His Sucessor.

Eugenia Jenkins sat still, deep in thought.

The weight of the current situation pressed heavily on her mind as she weighed the pros and cons of her next move.

If she played this right, she could turn the tides in her favour. If she miscalculated, it could be her downfall.

No one in the room noticed the subtle shift in her demeanour—except one.

Across the table, Albus Dumbledore observed the minister, his keen blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.

His brow arched slightly as he detected the sudden change in her aura.

What had the Auror whispered to her?

Thud~

The room fell silent as Eugenia slammed her fist lightly against the table, interrupting the heated debate between two high-ranking officials—Harold Minchum and David Flutcher.

Mitchum, the favoured candidate of the pureblood families, had been subtly manoeuvring to replace her, using the rise of Voldemort's Death Eaters as political leverage.

Meanwhile, Fletcher, one of her loyal supporters, had been fiercely defending her position.

She knew that much of the pressure she faced was due to Minchum's backdoor dealings, stirring doubt among the Wizengamot and fueling the pureblood elite's dissatisfaction with her leadership.

She wasn't about to give him more ammunition.

"We will continue this discussion next time… For now, my presence is needed elsewhere."

Eugenia's firm voice cut through the tension as she stood from her chair, dismissing the discussion entirely.

Frown~

Harold Minchum's expression darkened, his annoyance evident.

He had been gaining the upper hand in the argument, and now she was leaving?

"Minister Jenkins, I would like to kindly remind you that we are discussing one of the most crucial matters concerning the safety and balance of wizarding Britain. What could be more important than that?"

His voice was smooth, but the underlying sneer was impossible to miss.

Sneer~

As Eugenia pushed back her chair, preparing to leave, Minchum pressed further.

"Or perhaps the Minister has found something more interesting to attend to?"

The sneer in his tone was clear now—a challenge, an attempt to undermine her authority in front of the other officials.

Eugenia paused mid-step, then slowly turned to face him.

The room fell into sudden silence.

Her sharp gaze locked onto Minchum's, and for the first time in the meeting, her mocking grin mirrored his own.

"I have no obligation as Minister to report my movements to a mere Liaison Officer, do I?"

The insult landed like a hex.

Minchum's jaw clenched, his face twisting in barely contained rage.

Eugenia, satisfied with the reaction, turned away smoothly—but just before leaving, she added:

"And for the record, I am heading to Knockturn Alley. I have an important meeting… with Lord Morningstar."

The entire room stiffened.

Minchum's sneer vanished instantly.

She walked out without another word.

The room remained deathly silent after Eugenia's departure.

All eyes slowly drifted toward Harold Minchum, whose face was dark with barely contained fury.

He sat rigid in his seat, his hands clenched into fists.

A soft chuckle broke the tension.

"Hoho~ It seems something quite interesting has happened,"

Dumbledore mused, his signature twinkle returning to his eyes.

He gracefully rose from his chair, making his way toward the door.

With the meeting postponed, the other officials followed suit, murmuring amongst themselves. One by one, they exited, leaving Harold Minchum alone.

As the last person left, Harold sat frozen, staring at Eugenia's empty chair.

His breathing was slow, controlled—but his clenched fists trembled with barely restrained rage.

'Damn you, Jenkins… Just wait.'

His cold, calculating mind raced.

Her authority was already hanging by a thread, with many pureblood families backing him.

The Death Eaters, whom he had secretly aided, were stirring more unrest, increasing public pressure for her resignation.

He had already positioned himself as her natural successor.

This setback would not change that.

'I will see you removed soon enough… and when that happens, you'll regret ever mocking me.'

His grip on the armrest tightened as his lips curled into a cruel smirk.

He would ensure her downfall—no matter what it took.

Flashback...

A Few Hours Earlier...

The poachers were transporting their latest catch—twenty-eight Veelas.

Among them, one half-Veela and twenty-seven pureblood Veelas.

Their haul was so large, so profitable, that they were already planning a grand celebration, dreaming of the wealth they would gain by selling these rare magical beings.

Bound by iron shackles inscribed with ancient runes, the captured creatures could not resist.

Or so the poachers thought.

Deep in the shadows of the dimly lit shop, a centaur moved—silently, cautiously.

With a sharp, precise motion, he snapped the shackles on one of the Veelas.

Her name was Fleur.

Freed from her restraints, Fleur clutched her sore wrists, her heart pounding.

She knew she had to act quickly.

This was their only chance.

Taking advantage of the poachers' distraction, she slipped away, weaving through the shop's maze-like interior and quietly stepping outside.

The moment her bare feet touched the cold, grimy cobblestones of Knockturn Alley, she took off running.

Fleur's breath came in short gasps, her legs burning with every step.

The iron shackles had bruised her ankles, but she pushed through the pain.

"I need to escape... I need to find help. Everyone is counting on me."

She ducked through alleys, past shadowy figures, and into the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, hoping the press of wizards and witches would hide her.

But she was not fast enough.

Behind her, she heard an angry voice—

"THERE! SHE'S ESCAPING!"

A surge of panic shot through her.

The poachers had noticed her absence.

They were chasing her.

Her breathing grew ragged.

Her legs screamed in protest.

Their footsteps were getting closer.

'No… they'll catch me!'

Desperation clawed at her chest.

In a split-second decision, Fleur ducked into the nearest shop, her hands trembling as she hid behind a tall shelf stacked with dried herbs and potion ingredients.

The poachers' footsteps rushed past the shop—then faded into the distance.

Sigh~

A shaky breath of relief escaped her lips.

'I did it… I lost them.'

Now, she needed to find a trustworthy witch or wizard, someone who could help free the others still trapped.

Just as she prepared to leave, a voice—smooth, deep, and impossibly calm—made her freeze in place.

"Are you alright?"

Fleur's eyes widened in shock.

Whirling around, she found herself face-to-face with a young man, his handsome features framed by the soft glow of candlelight.

Startled, she stumbled backwards, knocking into the shelf behind her.

Bottles clinked together, and a few dried herbs fell to the ground.

Her mind screamed at her to run—

'No! I need to leave!'

Grit~

Her fingers tightened around the small pocket knife hidden beneath her robe.

Without hesitation, she pressed the cold blade against her own throat.

Her voice trembled, but her gaze was fierce.

"D-Don't come closer! I'll… I'll end myself before I go back!"

She had seen the horrors inflicted upon captured Veelas.

If she was going to die, she would do so on her own terms—not as someone's plaything.

But the young man before her did not react with disgust… nor with predatory hunger like so many others had.

Instead, his expression remained calm, unreadable.

And then—

"I'm Leo Morningstar,"

he said smoothly, his voice carrying an effortless charm.

Fleur froze.

Morningstar.

Her grandmother had spoken that name before.

A name tied to power.

A name tied to justice.

A name feared by dark wizards.

"...Please..."

Her lips barely parted to ask for help—

Boom~

The shop's door burst open.

The poachers had found her.

White fabric wrapped around her, binding her arms and silencing her cry before she could utter another word.

"Got her!"

one of them sneered.

"Thought you could run, you little wench?"

Fleur struggled, but the bindings held tight.

As they began dragging her back, her panicked gaze landed on Leo.

A silent plea shone in her bright blue eyes.

'Please… this is our last chance.'

She could do nothing but hope.

Hope that the stories were true.

Hope that Leo Morningstar was the one person in this cursed place who could help them.

Darkness filled her vision as a cloth covered her face.

The last thing she heard before losing consciousness—Was the sound of a fight breaking out.

Flashback Ends...

When Fleur awoke, she was free.

The poachers were defeated.

Leo Morningstar had already left—on his way to rescue the others.

Tears of relief and gratitude welled in her eyes.

A nearby voice—belonging to a half-goblin, who introduced himself as the Charms professor at Hogwarts—told her everything.

She could hardly believe it.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, hope blossomed in her chest.

Her sisters, her people—They were going to be saved.

Knockturn Alley...

Poacher's Base...

With one punch, the poacher went flying—collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

Even though Leo held back his strength, the man still couldn't withstand the force.

But the sight of him crumpling didn't ease Leo's anger.

Not when he looked around at the state of the magical creatures in the dimly lit, foul-smelling room.

The Veelas, Centaurs, and other creatures were all bound in heavy iron shackles, their eyes hollow with despair, their bodies bruised and weakened from mistreatment.

Leo's rage only deepened.

Without hesitation, he and the others broke their restraints, setting them free.

As the last set of chains clattered to the ground, a heavy silence filled the room.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then—

Soft sobs began to rise from the Veelas, their shoulders shaking as they cried—tears of relief, pain, and years of suffering unjustly endured.

Leo exhaled and turned away, giving them a moment to grieve in peace.

He motioned for the Black sisters to follow him, leading them out of the room to let the freed captives process their emotions in private.

But as soon as they stepped outside—They stopped in their tracks.

A group of Aurors stood waiting for them.

Among them, at the forefront, stood Alastor Moody, his face bearing a familiar scarred grimace—though this time, there was a knowing smirk on his lips.

"Lord Morningstar,"

Moody greeted, stepping forward.

"Heard you caught yourself a bunch of illegal traffickers. Thought I'd drop by as soon as I got the news."

Leo's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

He had an inkling of how Moody got involved so quickly.

For the past few weeks, Aurors had been frequenting his shop—a bit too often.

He had noticed their watchful eyes, their strategic patrols.

Someone had tipped Moody off, and the seasoned Auror had wasted no time arriving here.

Leo sighed.

He could already guess why.

A low chuckle rumbled from Moody's throat before he leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a hushed whisper—

"Don't worry, Lord Morningstar. I heard everything from Filius."

Leo's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened slightly.

"Selling Veelas isn't technically banned in Wizarding Britain,"

Moody continued, voice grim.

"But now that you—the heir of the Morningstar family—are involved, things change."

His scarred face twisted into a satisfied smirk.

"Trust me, you'll be pleased with the result."

Leo remained silent for a moment.

Moody's words were calculated, but his anger felt genuine.

Moody knew this world far too well.

Years ago, he had caught a poacher who had been trafficking magical creatures, including Veelas.

The sight of those broken, mistreated captives had made his blood run cold.

Moody had wanted justice—he had been determined to see the poacher punished.

But reality had slapped him in the face when Harold Minchum—one of the Ministry's high-ranking officials—stepped in.

Instead of punishment, Minchum took custody of the poacher himself.

Days later, the poacher walked free.

Whispers from the Ministry's insiders revealed the disgusting truth—The Veelas had been 'gifted' to Minchum as a bribe to secure the poacher's release.

And now, that same Minchum was running to be the next Minister for Magic.

The thought made Moody's expression darken.

Leo led the Aurors inside to the room where the captives were held.

As the Aurors entered, the freed magical creatures stiffened, their eyes widening in fear.

The Veelas and Centaurs took several steps back, their bodies tense, ready to flee or fight.

A heavy, uneasy silence settled over the room.

Even some of the Aurors—except for Moody—visibly struggled, their faces flushing slightly under the influence of the Veelas' aura.

Though the Veelas were still covered in specially-made white robes—designed to suppress their natural charm—a lingering trace of their magic still leaked through.

Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Even trained Aurors can barely handle it..."

he muttered under his breath.

Reading about Veela magic was one thing—Experiencing it firsthand was another.

Taking a deep breath, Leo turned to address the freed captives.

"If any of you have a place to return to, I will personally escort you there."

His voice was calm but firm.

"If you have nowhere safe to go, I will provide you with shelter."

A brief pause.

"You don't need to be afraid—I won't harm you. You will be free."

The Veelas glanced at one another, tension flickering in their gazes.

Some were still wary, but Leo's words had at least planted a seed of trust.

Slowly, they began discussing among themselves, weighing their options.

Meanwhile, Leo turned his attention to the Black sisters, who were curiously examining some of the magical objects in the shop.

Chime~

A soft chime echoed through the air as someone new entered the shop.

Leo turned his head, and his eyes landed on a woman—followed closely by two Aurors, both with stoic expressions.

The moment she stepped inside, the Aurors who had arrived earlier snapped to attention, their backs straightening in immediate respect.

Leo felt a tug on his sleeve.

He glanced down to see Narcissa, standing on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear.

"She's the current Minister for Magic."

Leo's eyes narrowed slightly as he took a closer look at the woman before him.

Young.

Far younger than he had expected for a Minister.

Becoming the head of the British Wizarding Government was no easy feat—it required power, strategy, and influence.

For someone so young to hold such a position…

Leo's interest was piqued.

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(Author's POV)

(A/N): I hope you guys enjoying the story.

Thanks for reading the chapter!

Please give a review and power stone!!!