Chapter 152: Protest and Arrest
Diagon Alley.
Normally, the hustle and bustle here was a sign of thriving commerce, prosperity, and the healthy circulation of Galleons—the very heart of the British wizarding economy.
But today was different.
Today was just as noisy, but not because of the dazzling array of shops. It was because of the wizards, their emotions running high. Wizards who were usually browsing for goods had transformed, wands drawn, shooting sparks into the air. The exploding sparks formed simple words:
"FUDGE"
"INCOMPETENT"
And the phrase: "STEP DOWN"
Numerous large banners floated lazily in the air, drifting along with the marching crowd, brazenly displaying their messages. The content was much the same as the sparks, just more detailed and specific. Marching wizards shot sparks with one hand while using Levitation Charms to distribute leaflets with the other.
The leaflets detailed Fudge's various blunders during his two years in office, contrasting them unfavorably with the supposed losses incurred under the "wise decisions" of the previous Minister. The back of the leaflets bore the publisher's name: The Quibbler.
Objectively, the Ministry under Fudge had indeed brought less happiness and confidence to the people than his predecessor. This was partly because two years wasn't enough time to completely shed the previous administration's policies, and Fudge's personal governing style inevitably caused friction during the transition. Additionally, the previous Minister was hailed as a hero who had led the fight against Voldemort, giving him a natural halo effect. Fudge, seen by many as a lucky fool who had stumbled into the position, naturally lacked the prestige of a true strongman.
A third factor was Fudge's somewhat weak political nature, coupled with the fact that he governed during peacetime. Leaders in peacetime often lack the charisma of wartime leaders, and their governments tend to inspire less confidence and unity among the populace.
These three factors formed the theoretical and practical basis for the protest. But for Fudge, a man of average capabilities, it wasn't entirely his fault. However, once someone pointed out the contrast between the wizarding world under the previous Minister and the present day, people inevitably compared and found Fudge wanting. Combined with the perceived illegitimacy of his rise to power, a thought began to germinate in the public mind: What would the wizarding world be like now if the most popular candidates at the time hadn't run into problems?
Because of this, sparks erupting from a few wands in the marching crowd even flashed the name "Crouch."
By the time a squad of Ministry Aurors arrived on the scene, the protest had swelled into a massive throng. It could almost be described by the ancient term for large-scale performance art involving multiple participants: an uprising.
"This is completely unreasonable!" the Auror tasked with suppressing the protest exclaimed in astonishment. Fudge's reputation might be lower than his predecessor's, but he had inherited a relatively stable and peaceful wizarding world. How could such a severe protest erupt?
"What should we do now?" The Aurors looked at each other, completely bewildered. Things had escalated to a point where they didn't know how to proceed. They were people too, living members of the wizarding community. They couldn't just draw their wands and start suppressing the crowd simply because Fudge ordered it.
"Perhaps there are external factors involved..." the lead Auror murmured, recalling what Scrimgeour had told him before they left. Their Head of Office had made numerous excuses not to lead the team himself and had pointedly told the Aurors assigned to Diagon Alley: A protest isn't necessarily just a protest. But you are definitely wizards, wizards living in the British magical community.
At the time, the lead Auror hadn't understood. Now, it was crystal clear. Given the small size of the British wizarding population, everyone in this protest probably had relatives among the Aurors themselves—aunts, uncles, cousins... The paltry salary Fudge paid them wasn't nearly enough to motivate them to turn on their own kin.
However, seeing the fierce expressions on the faces of the wizards at the very front of the march, he quickly gave his orders: "Protect the procession. As long as they don't cause any casualties, we do nothing."
"But—?"
"The orders—?"
"Huh?"
Several voices piped up, betraying not doubt, but excitement. Although the order was exactly what they wanted, they still had to put on a show of loyalty to the Minister, as befits the finest employees of the Ministry.
One rebellious soul voiced the concern everyone was thinking: "What about the Minister—?"
"Look at this situation. You want to go in?" the lead Auror retorted.
"Well, no."
"So, if anyone asks why we didn't disperse the crowd, we say the protest was too large. We couldn't control the situation. We could only do our best to maintain order and prevent injuries."
"Let's do that!"
The Aurors split up. Some took out magical cameras, meticulously documenting their colleagues who were actively preventing the more agitated protesters from damaging property.
Document everything.
Take lots of pictures.
This is a difficult situation.
These were the survival rules for a long career at the Ministry of Magic.
Near Ottery St Catchpole.
Not far from where the Weasley family happily resided in their hilltop home stood a peculiar building adorned with dirigibles and other strange decorations.
"Who are you people! Why are you breaking into my house!" Xenophilius Lovegood demanded, shocked and angry. Without waiting for an answer, he drew his wand to drive the intruders out.
"Expelliarmus!" A sharp, capable-looking wizard standing behind a woman resembling a pink toad cast the Disarming Charm.
Xenophilius's wand flew high into the air and landed neatly in the caster's hand.
"What do you want!" Seeing his wand captured, Xenophilius grabbed a gleaming knife from some corner of his cluttered table. It was an alchemical artifact, menacing in appearance but actually designed for preparing food, like charcuterie boards. Its only noteworthy feature was that it never rusted.
"According to the Ministerial Decree just issued today by Minister Fudge, your actions have violated Ministerial Decree No. [Number]. Therefore, we are lawfully arresting you and escorting you to Azkaban," the pink toad-like woman—Umbridge—declared smugly, savoring the sweet taste of power. This is the power of authority! she shrieked internally. Just a few words, a single sentence, is enough to ruin a famous public figure forever!
Just as the Aurors moved forward to apprehend the editor who had violated the brand-new decree, a young, reedy female voice cried out, "You can't touch my daddy!"
~~~
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