The Pacifist Necromancer of Hogwarts

Chapter 158 Cornelius Fudge

They landed next to a shabby phone booth. This is a very deserted small street. The door of a tavern is tightly closed. The remaining buildings are what look like offices, but the glass windows are dirty and spiders have formed webs on the broken frames. . The street looked deserted for a long time, abandoned simply because some big shot had not figured out what to do with it, in a corner that would not be marked on the most detailed map of London.

Oscar apologized while using his frozen fingers to untie Anthony: I can't use the heat preservation spell, Professor Anthony, you know, this is a strictly controlled spell...

Is it strictly controlled? Anthony asked in surprise, stepping off the broom. The kitchen elves used this magic at least a million times a day, and Anthony thought it was as common as cleaning up - wait, cleaning up is also strictly controlled, right?

Oscar said: Oh, yes. Because it might cause the world to look like a boiled egg or something like that... There are a lot of wizards who like to cast warming spells on their houses to keep them warm in the winter. He added The broom was placed at the door of the tavern, as if the janitor had accidentally left it there.

As he led Anthony into the phone booth, he said: It's not that I think there's anything wrong with doing this, but for some reason, the Ministry of Magic in many countries suddenly issued a joint statement, saying that this would melt the iceberg or something. ...Then it became a control spell. I really don’t understand. Okay, I must have remembered correctly, six-two-four-four-two. He muttered in a low voice and turned the dial. .

As soon as the dial turned back, a cold, female voice rang, instructing them to state their names and come to handle the matter.

Oscar Weaver! Trainee Auror! Oscar shouted, his voice buzzing in the narrow phone booth, startling Anthony. Escort - Professor Henry Anthony - from Hogg Watts come over – see the Minister – and Professor Dumbledore!”

A square badge slipped out from the coin return slot, and it read: Henry Anthony, a courtesy call. Anthony pinned the silver badge to his wizard's robe, wondering where the voice came from. Oscar didn't even take off the phone receiver.

Oh, I should have asked you to make the call. Oscar noticed Anthony's eyes looking at the phone, I don't know how Muggles use this thing. Fortunately, I don't usually have to walk through the guest aisle - stand still, Professor Anthony. This is our modified elevator.

They began to slowly sink into the ground. Anthony held on to the missing glass frame of the phone booth and watched the darkness gradually creeping up the window, like the sidewalk outside the window was trying to bury him. He thought, Wizards, this is not what elevators look like!

…

After registering the wand at the security counter (Oscar, why haven't you come home yet? What the hell happened again...Wait, Anthony? That Henry Anthony? Uh... Come on in. Shhh, don't ask.), Oscar took Anthony into a magnificent corridor.

It's almost time to get off work, and the Ministry of Magic is full of employees packing up their things. Even though the hands on the golden wall clock were still lingering next to off duty and refused to move over, people were already leaving the fireplace with briefcases under their arms.

Two wizards came out of an elevator, and Anthony heard them talking about the recent increase in beef prices, all because a fire dragon's egg was stolen over in Romania. One of them complained that he could only eat bacon when he went back, so the other invited her to eat Spanish seafood risotto in a nearby restaurant. With two pops and snaps, the two of them apparated away.

Here, Professor Anthony. Oscar said, trying hard to cover up the fatigue and envy in his voice, The Minister and Professor Dumbledore should be in the Minister's office...

He took Anthony to the door of Fudge's office and knocked on the door, but before he could speak, the door was pushed open. A pale man with a sharp face walked out from inside. He looked at Anthony and Oscar standing by the door with cold gray eyes, and nodded to them haughtily and perfunctorily.

I think you must be Professor Anthony? Oh, nice to meet you. He said lazily, as if he was looking at a piece of beef that had increased in price.

Nice to meet you, you are... Anthony waited in confusion for him to announce his name.

Oscar reminded him in a low voice: This is Mr. Lucius Malfoy.

Oh, nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy, Anthony said, nodding to him. He moved out of the way so as not to block Malfoy's way out, which seemed to annoy Malfoy for some reason.

Fudge has been waiting for you for a while... Oh, I wish you a nice evening. Malfoy said, then turned and left.

Why is he still here? Oscar muttered, and then said loudly, Minister, Professor Anthony is here!

Thank you... er, Wilbur? Please come in, Mr. Anthony. Fudge's voice came from the office. Oscar waved goodbye to Anthony gently, and then left quickly to get off work. Anthony felt that his steps were much lighter than when he came.

There are two people sitting in the office. Dumbledore smiled and looked at Anthony who walked in. He was sitting on an armchair with a cup of steaming black tea in front of him and lemon slices floating on the water. Opposite Dumbledore, behind the table, sat Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. He is a stocky man, wearing a yellow-green suit and a bright yellow tie. He is embedded in a chair with two cushions.

When Anthony walked in, Fudge gave a violent jolt: he tried to stand up, but felt he shouldn't, so he looked as if he'd stepped on a banana peel while sitting and fell back into his chair.

Good evening, Mr. Anthony. Fudge said, his tone a little unnatural, It must be very hard to come here so late.

Have a cup of tea, Henry. Dumbledore said, waving his wand, and suddenly there was an extra chair in the room. I guess you are not used to flying?

Anthony glanced at Fudge - the Minister of Magic was pretending to be a statue, just staring at his tea cup - walked to Dumbledore and sat down: I'm not used to it at all. I hope this way of traveling is just an emergency. means, not for daily commuting.”

Of course, of course. Fudge said, I really don't like flying, especially broomsticks... To be honest, flying carpets are more comfortable, right? He laughed.

After they made some indifferent comments about the way they traveled, the conversation gradually turned to the reason why Anthony came. Different from what Oscar told him, this has nothing to do with the Basilisk, but has something to do with Voldemort.

I told Cornelius some interesting things, Dumbledore said easily, but he didn't quite believe it.

No, no, Albus. Fudge said, I don't mean to distrust you at all. I just think, look... well, maybe you will make a mistake too? You're just afraid of what may happen, right? ?”

That's right. Dumbledore said, Of course I will make mistakes. Henry, I ask you to forgive me for interrupting your work. I know the professors are very busy at the end of the term... But can you ask Connell Leigh repeat your experience with Quirrell? He seems to want to hear your own words.

Oh... no problem. Anthony said, Let me think about it, where do I start my story with Professor Quirrell? Well, the Ministry of Magic asked me not to go home, so I had to stay in the Leaky Cauldron. ——By the way, Professor Dumbledore paid for my room in advance, and the Ministry of Magic did not reimburse me.

Dumbledore chuckled, as if Anthony had just told a funny joke. Fudge looked even more uncomfortable.

Albus, Mr. Anthony, I offer you my sincere apologies, he said, wiping his chubby face with a gingham handkerchief. I am not responsible for the financial matters. You know, when you are a minister, It’s very busy.”

Dumbledore said: I will remind myself to check whether Hogwarts is behind on your wages, Henry. He gently tapped Anthony's arm on the armrest with his hand.

So Anthony said: It doesn't matter, Minister, I am indeed a dark wizard anyway. You haven't punished the wrong person. Uh... In this way, I may also thank you for not persisting in trying to capture me back to Azkaban. .

Haha, yeah, yeah. That's over, huh? Okay? Fudge said, fiddling with his handkerchief.

Anthony repeated his experience to the Minister of Magic: from meeting in the Leaky Cauldron, to becoming neighbors after joining the job, to solving the basilisk together, and then to the dead unicorn, as pure as if they had fallen into the Forbidden Forest. The moonlight in the clearing, and finally that sleepless night, he followed Quirrell's footsteps into a pre-set trap, and accidentally let the prey go.

Then Fudge said some shit like I hope you're not hurt and St. Mungo's Medicare.

In his blabbering line (We are working hard to promote the Department of Health working closely with St Mungo's Hospital to provide affordable comprehensive cover for a wide range of magical illnesses and injuries...from spell-related accidents to magical creature bites Treatment, we plan to provide corresponding support when the people need it...), Dumbledore said that he had to go back. He and the principal of Ifamoni also had a meeting about school communication. Due to time difference and scheduling issues, the meeting was scheduled for tonight.

Anthony also stood up and wanted to say goodbye together, but Fudge was the first to say loudly: Of course, thank you so much for coming despite your busy schedule, Albus! Don't worry about your professor, we will find him outside the broomstick. Send Professor Anthony back to Hogwarts! He smiled at Anthony and said, We had a great chat, didn't we? Please don't leave now.

I'm afraid I still have some final papers that need to be marked, Anthony said. He would rather go back and read the twenty-six ways to use the Confusion Charm compiled by students than listen to how the Ministry of Magic wants to not only focus on passive medical care, but also emphasize preventive measures, invest in research and education, promote a healthy culture, and encourage responsibility magical act in order to lighten St. Mungo's burden.

No, no, Mr. Anthony, said Fudge, please don't leave. I enjoyed talking to you very much.

Dumbledore said: It doesn't matter, just keep it, Henry. He joked, Excess papers can always find the person who corrects them, just like some test papers find Severus.

Anthony couldn't help laughing. Okay. He said, standing and seeing Dumbledore out of the office, before sitting down.

…

Fudge waved his hand and closed the office door. He looked a little irritated and distressed, but said to Anthony quite amiably: I feel close to you when I see you, Mr. Anthony.

Oh, really? Anthony asked in surprise.

Fudge probably also thought of the last time they met at the Ministry of Magic. He picked up the tea cup and took a sip. When he spoke again, the topic changed: I'll tell you the truth, Mr. Anthony, the Minister of Magic is not an easy job. . If you are not careful, the people's owls will fly in overwhelmingly. Oops, the complaint letters will be like snowflakes... You can't imagine it, Mr. Anthony.

God, I hope everything is okay now, Anthony said quietly.

Yes, yes, I hope so too. Fudge said, Look, Albus was here just now, and I didn't want to refute him... I respect him very much... But, Mr. Anthony, have you noticed that you Is there a slight discrepancy between the story and Albus's story? Not much, but a little bit...

Anthony asked: What?

Oh, do you know what Albus told me? Do you know? Fudge said, leaning his upper body slightly towards Anthony, What he told me was... about that matter.

That thing? Anthony repeated doubtfully.

Albus is very cautious, very, very cautious, said Fudge, squeezing the handkerchief in his chubby hands. He's suspicious of things... He started spreading a theory many years ago that he thinks It's not 'all is well' yet for the wizarding world.

Oh, you are referring to the fact that Voldemort is not dead.

Fudge trembled violently and stared at him in horror: Don't say that name!

What? Anthony asked confused.

Don't say that name, Fudge repeated, his voice low, as if some invisible person was eavesdropping on their conversation. That--that man's name, it's terrible, Mr. Anthony. Call him. That person' or 'the mysterious man'.

Uh... Okay. Anthony said, Are you okay, Minister? He looked at the man in front of him who took out a handkerchief and began to wipe his broad forehead. This time, there were really beads of sweat seeping out from it. Under the light, Crystal clear under the light.

As long as you don't say that name! Fudge said, taking a deep breath, In short, Albus has such a persecutory delusion that that person still exists in the world...

“I guess he was,” Anthony said, recalling the rotten oyster, “just not necessarily doing very well.”

You see, that's the problem, said Fudge. Did you see the man with your own eyes? Did Albus tell you that Quirrell was the man, or did you see him as the man? Quirrell told you Is he that person? Did Quirrell kill someone in front of you?

He gained confidence from Anthony's silence, and his voice gradually became solid: Has Quirrell done anything heinous? Is he a dark wizard? According to the information, he is a shy, silent, and excellent young man, regardless of age. Or experience, it has nothing to do with the mysterious man.

Minister, Anthony said warningly.

Oh, I'm not saying that Albus did this on purpose. I also believe that you didn't need to lie on purpose, right? Fudge smiled, Have tea, Mr. Anthony. I heard that Albus also has a tuna club. ?”