Chapter 151: Fudge's Troubles
Fudge stood in the Minister's office, hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window with the air of a profound statesman. On his desk lay two newspapers: The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet.
The Daily Prophet had reprinted an article from France's The Gargoyle's Roar. The article detailed the rampage of a hundred-meter giant bat, ultimately stopped by the combined efforts of the anonymously mentioned Headmaster of Hogwarts, a legendary alchemist who wished to remain unnamed, the Seer Welles (also unnamed), and a final, truly anonymous Mr. Gellert. An accompanying photograph starkly illustrated the oppressive, suffocating presence of the giant bat against the backdrop of Muggle skyscrapers under the moonlight. The image of the bat engulfed in Fiendfyre, in particular, struck a chord of primal fear.
According to the special contributor to The Gargoyle's Roar, writing under the pen name "Madame Sublime," the giant bat could have easily killed dozens of Aurors. Other photos included in the article showed several thorns in Fudge's side—namely Ralvin, Ralvin, and more Ralvin—smiling brightly, standing behind a group of captured vampires and the motionless wreckage of the giant bat.
"Damn it!" Fudge muttered, providing the perfect soundtrack.
The other newspaper on his desk, The Quibbler, hadn't reported on the bat incident. Instead, it focused on the current state of affairs in the British wizarding world, compiling reactions to Fudge's recent, ill-conceived decrees. It was a litany of criticism, launched with confidence after his discussions with Umbridge.
For example, a statement from the Society for the Study of Ancient Runes declared: "Fudge is an idiot."
Several respected elder wizards had also weighed in:
"Fudge has corrupted the Ministry's reputation."
"Fudge has set a terrible precedent."
"Fudge is useless at everything except causing trouble."
Finally, Xenophilius Lovegood, editor-in-chief of The Quibbler, offered his own sharp critique: "A Minister who only knows how to rely on others to feign strength... based on his performance since taking office, even a dog in his position could do a better job! After all, a dog wouldn't engage in power struggles, build personal power bases, conspire in the shadows, and undermine the world!"
If it had merely been unfavorable opinions published in a newspaper, Fudge wouldn't have been this angry. But as a political creature, when negative press threatened his political standing, it was tantamount to having his deepest insecurities exposed, his parents murdered, and his children killed right before his eyes.
Yet, he could do nothing.
It wasn't just because Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, refused to dispatch Aurors to arrest Fudge's critics. More significantly, Fudge had abruptly realized that, aside from the Ministry's mouthpiece, the Daily Prophet, virtually every other publication and the entire network of Communicators held immense hostility toward his decrees. On the Communicators especially, young wizards were venting their dissatisfaction. Fudge could sense a growing unease—meaning his own position was becoming unstable.
Throughout the wizarding world's gathering places, even within the Ministry itself, whenever people discussed Fudge's decrees, their faces twisted into expressions of disgust, like Old Ones glimpsing the Elder Sign.
"Why is this happening?"
Caught in the storm of public opinion, Fudge felt like a small boat tossed between the peaks and troughs of monstrous waves, liable to capsize at any moment.
"Umbridge was right," he muttered to himself, his eyes showing a mixture of anxiety, anger, fear, and resentment. "I have the power, I am the Minister, they should listen to me! Why are they expressing dissatisfaction? How dare they express dissatisfaction and resist me!"
Two days prior, after sending Aurors to find Arthur Weasley and Ralvin, Fudge had been full of confidence on the first morning. Arthur had come, and although their conversation hadn't been pleasant, the fact that he came at all proved he still acknowledged Fudge's authority. By the afternoon, however, anxiety had begun to creep in.
On the second day, his anxiety turned to anger. He concluded that Ralvin was defying him simply because of his close ties to Hogwarts. By the afternoon of the second day, he swore that even if it meant a direct confrontation with Dumbledore, he would teach Ralvin and the others a lesson. He had been ready to sign a Ministerial Decree forcibly ordering Scrimgeour to send them all to Azkaban.
But on the third day—today—his anger and anxiety had been replaced by unease and fear, fueled by the descriptions in the newspapers. If he had witnessed the battle firsthand, even the remaining shreds of anxiety and anger would have vanished, and he would have likely surrendered faster than anyone.
"Minister! Something else has happened!" Umbridge burst in, looking frantic. She was so agitated that she had forgotten to use her signature, sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice.
Fudge turned. He saw that not only was his key subordinate speaking normally, but her clothes were wrinkled, clearly from running. It was not the image a self-proclaimed respectable lady of refinement should present.
"What is it?" Fudge took a deep breath, suppressing unnecessary emotions—a required skill for any political creature.
"Diagon Alley... Knockturn Alley... there's..." Umbridge gasped for breath.
Her state made Fudge even more anxious. "What happened?!"
Urged on by Fudge, feeling the pressure of his authority, Umbridge couldn't even take a deep breath. She forced out a complete sentence: "A protest! A massive protest! They say it was started by those shady Dark Wizards from Knockturn Alley!"
"It's huge, completely out of control!"
Fudge's already frayed nerves snapped. Hearing the news of a protest march, he felt the blood rush to his head. The world went black, and he stumbled, collapsing onto the sofa.
Amidst Umbridge's startled cries, Fudge struggled to open his eyes. The news had left him dizzy, his ears ringing, his mind numb. After a moment—or perhaps much longer—he opened his mouth. His voice was much lower than usual, but steady and methodical.
"Tell Scrimgeour to deploy his people. Minimize the scale of the protest if possible. Then, you go and warn the Daily Prophet. Demand that they do not publish anything about this."
"Also, take some Hit Wizards. Visit every shop in Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, door by door. Make sure those owners understand the situation, understand they need to keep their mouths shut."
"Finally... go to The Quibbler. Arrest Xenophilius Lovegood. And confiscate his printing equipment. No reason needed. I will sign the Ministerial Decree."
Umbridge heard the chilling undertones of upheaval in Fudge's words. She immediately pledged her loyalty. "Yes, Minister. Your decisive actions will sweep away all these insignificant clowns."
~~~
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