HP Magic Biography

What did you say? The Prime Minister looked at Fudge in disbelief.

Fudge took a deep breath and pushed his chest outward, Master Prime Minister, I am very sorry to tell you that he is back. The devil who can't even mention his name is back.

Come back? You said 'come back'...is he still alive? I mean...

The Prime Minister fumbled in his memory the details of that horrific conversation three years earlier, when Fudge had said that everyone was afraid of the wizard who had mysteriously disappeared fifteen years earlier after committing more than a thousand horrific crimes. .

Yes, still alive, Fudge said dejectedly, like a deflated ball, his whole body was a little limp.

That's... I don't know... If a person can't be killed, does that mean he's alive? I don't really understand the word, and Dumbledore didn't explain it well - but he has a body, can He can walk and talk and he can kill, so I think, for our discussion to go on, yes, he's alive, and I saw him with my own eyes, in my Ministry of Magic.

The Prime Minister didn't know what to say, but out of an abiding habit of wanting to show how well-informed he was on every topic under discussion, he began to search for any details he could recall from previous conversations.

Is Sirius Black following the - uh - the one who can't even be named?

Black? Black? said Fudge distractedly, spinning his top hat rapidly.

Sirius Black... oh no... that was all a few years ago, and it turns out Sirius Black was innocent, he wasn't around that man, he worked for Dumbledore, and at the Ministry of Magic, he Also participated in the confrontation with that man... Fudge turned his top hat faster, and said generally, All the facts point to this-we have more than fifty witnesses-but anyway, The man's back...it's hard to deal with, and we've captured some of his minions, but Azkaban...well, it's not that difficult, for the man...

To Fudge's great surprise, a gleam of pity for Fudge flashed across the Prime Minister's face at this moment. But the Prime Minister immediately smeared it up, thinking that while he might not be as good as Fudge at appearing from a fireplace, he wasn't going to let a murder happen in one of his ministries... Anyway, not yet……

The Prime Minister touched his wooden table surreptitiously, as Fudge went on, But we're only mentioning Black in passing. The point is, we're at war, Mr Prime Minister, and something must be done.

At war? the Prime Minister repeated nervously. It must be a bit exaggerated.

The devil who can't even mention his name now has a group of followers,

You know, they escaped from Azkaban in January, Fudge said more and more urgently, turning his top hat so fast it looked like a gray-green fuzzy little ball. Since freed, They began to create vengeful disasters. Brodell Bridge - he did it, Mr Prime Minister, he threatened that a lot of Muggles would die if I didn't make way for him, and... this time he wasn't just surrounded by escaped Outlaws, and there are worse things...

What is it?

They exist in your legends.

Actually, if nothing else, you are included, said the Prime Minister. What is that!

Vampires, and werewolves, and if possible, a whole bunch of dark creatures and giants...

Oh my god, what are these! the Prime Minister said in shock, but he realized it immediately, So... so it's your fault that those people died... To be precise, it's these horrible monsters ? and I have to answer that it's because the cables are rusted and the expansion joints are corroded, and I don't know what else! raged the Prime Minister.

My fault! said Fudge, blushing. Would you give in to blackmail like that?

Probably not, said the prime minister, standing up and striding the house, but I will do my best to stop this blackmailer before he commits any such atrocities.

Do you really think I'm not making every effort? said Fudge sharply. Every Auror in the Ministry has been - and is - looking for him and rounding up his followers, but we happen to be talking about the most powerful wizard who ever lived, one who eluded capture for almost thirty years .”

Then I suppose you're going to tell me that he's the one who created the hurricane in the Southwest? The Prime Minister grew more tempered with each step he took. It is infuriating to find out why all these horrific disasters happened and not be able to make it known to the public; almost worse than blaming it all on the government.

That's not a hurricane, said Fudge sadly.

Oh, sorry! the Prime Minister yelled, stamping his foot. Trees uprooted, roofs torn off, lampposts bent, horrific casualties—

That's what the Death Eaters did, Fudge said. A follower of the one who must not even be named. And... we suspect the giant is involved.

The Prime Minister stopped his steps, as if hitting an invisible wall.

What's involved?

Fudge smiled wryly. Last time he used giants for grand effect. The Misleading Office works around the clock, and we have a team of amnestics modifying the memories of Muggles who see what's really going on. Nearly all of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Fantastic Creatures The members are all running around in Somerset, but we can't find a giant - it's a disaster.

Is this true! said the Prime Minister furiously.

I won't deny that morale is very low in the Ministry right now, Fudge said. In addition to that, we lost Amelia Bones.

Who is lost?

Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Legal Enforcement. We think the unnamed monster killed her herself, because she was a very talented wizard, and—and the signs Shows she really fought. Fudge cleared his throat, and seemed to be making an enormous effort not to turn his hat.

But the murder was in the papers, said the Prime Minister, quickly suppressing his anger. Our paper. Amelia Bones . . . only says she's a middle-aged woman living alone. That's—dirty murder, isn't it? It's well known. The police are confused, you know.

Fudge sighed. Oh, of course they would. Killed in a house that was locked from the inside, wouldn't they? On the other hand, we know exactly who did it, but that doesn't help us catch him. And then It's Emmeline Vance, perhaps you haven't heard that name—

Oh, I've heard of it! said the Prime Minister. It actually happened around here. The papers made a big deal about it: law and order trampling in the prime minister's backyard—

And as if that wasn't enough, continued Fudge, barely listening to the Prime Minister, we've got dementors swarming everywhere, attacking people everywhere.

In the past, this sentence may have seemed inexplicable to the Prime Minister, but he is now more sensible.

I thought Dementors guarded Azkaban Prison? The Prime Minister said cautiously. He had heard Fudge mention the name, which was used by the Ministry of Magic to guard the wizard's prison.

They were, said Fudge wearily. But not anymore. They've abandoned that prison and gone to the one who can't even be named. I won't deny that it was a sudden blow, but, actually, Dumbledore was right, Perhaps the Ministry of Magic shouldn't have used dementors to guard Azkaban, but the truth is, there's no better watcher than dementors.

But, said the Prime Minister, feeling a growing sense of dread, you're not going to tell me that they're creatures that suck out hope and joy?

Actually, that's it. They're breeding. That's the reason for the fog. Fudge said helplessly, even wizards were unwilling to deal with these dementors who had left the Ministry of Magic.

To be precise, there are too few people who can master the Patronus Charm against dementors. Everyone has been slack for a long time. Except for a few Aurors, very few people have learned it. It is very difficult, but Magic that is not often used.

The Prime Minister sank limply into the nearest chair. The very thought of those unseen animals flitting about town and country, sowing despair among his constituents made him feel debilitated.

Now, listen, Fudge - you have to do something! It's your duty as Minister for Magic!

My dear Prime Minister, after all this, would you believe that I am still Minister for Magic? I was sacked three days ago! It has been two weeks since the entire wizarding world has urged me to step down. I've never seen them so united! Fudge mustered up his courage and smiled, but the smile was a bit forced.

Two weeks ago, this was something he tried his best to avoid, but now it seems that what he did is not taken seriously by everyone.

The Prime Minister was speechless for a while. As angry as he was at his current situation, he felt rather sympathetic to the wizened man sitting before him.

I'm so sorry, he finally said. Is there anything else I can do?

Thank you very much, Mr Prime Minister, but there is nothing more that can be done. I have been sent tonight to update you on these recent events, as well as to introduce you to my successor. I feel he should Arrived, but of course, he must be very busy at this time, with so many things going on at the same time.

Fudge looked back at the ugly man with the curly silver hair in the portrait who was digging his ears with a quill. He caught Fudge's eye, and said, He'll be here in a minute, he's almost finishing his letter to Dumbledore.

Good luck to him, said Fudge, sounding bitter for the first time. I've been writing Dumbledore a letter every two days for the past fortnight, but he's unimpressed. If he's ready to convince the boy, I'll just...well, maybe Scrimgeour will be more successful .”

Fudge fell back into a distressing silence, which was broken at once by the crisp, bureaucratic voice of the portrait.

To the Muggle Prime Minister. Request for an interview. Urgent. Quick reply. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.

Yes, yes, well, said the Prime Minister distractedly, barely flinching as the flames in the fireplace turned emerald green once again, and another wizard spun out of it, and in the blink of an eye he was again Flames spit onto the quaint cushion.

Fudge stood up in amazement, and after a moment's hesitation the Prime Minister stood up as well, and they watched the new guest stand up, dust off his long black robes, and look around.

The Prime Minister thought Rufus Scrimgeour was like an old lion when he first saw him. Long tawny hair and bushy eyebrows with strands of gray streaked in; piercing yellow eyes under a pair of metal-rimmed spectacles. Although he walked with a slight limp, he exuded a loose and leisurely elegance. Immediately give a shrewd and capable impression.

The Prime Minister suddenly felt that he understood why the wizarding society chose him to replace Fudge as the leader in this critical period. In times of chaos, decisiveness and ferocity are the most effective means.

Hello, said the Prime Minister politely, holding out his hand.

Scrimgeour simply grabbed it and shook it, his eyes scanning the room, before drawing a wand from inside his robes.

Minister Fudge has told you everything? he asked, and strode to the door, tapping his wand on the keyhole. The Prime Minister heard the lock click.

Er—yes, said the Prime Minister. If you don't mind, I hope you don't lock that door.

I don't like to be interrupted, said Scrimgeour succinctly, or to be watched, he added, and with his wand he drew the curtains on the windows as well.

Okay, so, I'm a busy man, so let's get busy. First, we need to discuss your safety.

The Prime Minister jumped to his feet and said, I am very satisfied with my security situation and am very --

Well well, that's not the case, Scrimgeour interrupted him. It's not a good prospect for Muggles if their Prime Minister is under the Imperius Curse. Your new secretary in the outer office—

I will not give up Kingsley Shacklebolt, if you say you want to give up him! the Prime Minister said fiercely. He's very capable and can do twice as much as the rest—

That's because he's a wizard, smiled Scrimgeour, a well-trained Auror, assigned to your protection.

Wait! said the Prime Minister. You can't just put your people in my office, I should decide who works for me—

I thought you were satisfied with Shacklebolt? said Scrimgeour coldly. I am—that is, I was—

Then there's no problem, is there? said Scrimgeour. I... well, as long as Shacklebolt's work remains... er... outstanding, the Prime Minister stammered, but Scrimgeour hardly listened to him.

And now, about Herbert Chorley—your undersecretary, he went on. The man who amuses the masses by imitating ducks.

What happened to him? asked the Prime Minister.

He's clearly had a not very good Imperius Curse, said Scrimgeour. It broke his brains, but he's still dangerous.

He's just quacking! said the Prime Minister weakly. Of course there are other problems... maybe like drinking...

While we're talking, he's being examined by a team of healers from St. Mungo's. He's tried to strangle three of them so far, Scrimgeour said. I think it would be better to isolate him from Muggle society for the time being.

I...well...he's going to be fine, isn't he? the Prime Minister asked anxiously. Scrimgeour just shrugged, and got up and walked to the fireplace.

Well, that's all I wanted to say. I'll let you know how it goes, Prime Minister—or, at least, I might be too busy to come to you myself, in which case I'll send Fudge. He Has agreed to remain in a position of advising.

Fudge tried to smile, but was unsuccessful; he just made it look like a toothache. Scrimgeour was already fumbling in his pockets for the mysterious powder that turned fire green. The Prime Minister stared at them both in despair for a moment, and finally couldn't help saying the words that he had suppressed all night.

My God!—you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely you can solve—well—any problem! Scrimgeour turned slowly, and exchanged a skeptical look with Fudge.

Fudge really tried to force a smile this time, and he said gently, But the problem is, that side can also cast magic, Mr Prime Minister. After saying this, the two walked into the bright green flame one by one ,Disappeared.