In the splendid hall, Morgan and Rockefeller sat down. The butler had already opened a cigar box that looked antique, even somewhat shabby.
The cigar box was merely silver, with years of tarnish on its surface. It seemed utterly at odds with Morgan's status.
Only the old butler understood just how much this cigar box, passed down through three generations of the Morgan family, meant.
It was the first expensive piece of craftsmanship the elder Morgan had purchased.
The butler gently rotated the cigars, precisely snipping off their caps with a professional cigar cutter to expose the tightly packed tobacco within, then handed them to Morgan and Rockefeller.
Umbridge accepted one with equal composure. In her six months or so among the Muggles, she had learned everything she should-and everything she shouldn't.
Morgan then lit the end of his cigar with a match, drew deeply, let the smoke roll around his mouth, and slowly exhaled.
Smoke curled through the air, carrying a distinctive fragrance, rich yet faintly sweet.
"You wanted to see me? Duke strongly urged me to meet you. He said you were quite remarkable."
Rockefeller said nothing, merely smoking his cigar in silence. His circumstances were much the same: someone had strongly recommended her to him, too.
A keen intelligence lurked in his seemingly clouded eyes as he studied the... strange woman before him.
Their power was certainly no mere decoration, yet this woman named Umbridge seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
There were records from only the past six months or so. Before that, nothing. Refusing to accept this, Morgan and Rockefeller had even enlisted the United States intelligence apparatus, the most powerful intelligence-gathering organization in the world.
Even that had uncovered nothing about this woman. Her past was a blank.
This bizarre situation was