Just like always, Fudge was suffering from insomnia.
Sitting up in his large wooden bed, Fudge felt that he would not be able to fall asleep again. These days, he was mentally and physically exhausted. After waking up, he could only stare blankly at the empty bedside.
He felt he could get up and deal with official business. In fact, he felt that as Minister of Magic, he was much more diligent than his predecessor. Compared to his predecessor, he spent more time on his career. Of course, there was also the possibility that he was unwilling to admit that he was too incompetent, which was the biggest reason why he needed to use his spare time for work.
Now he had to shave his beard first. These days, he had been putting out fires everywhere like a firefighter in the Muggle world, and he didn't even have time to take care of his appearance. Not long ago, Dumbledore, in his official capacity as headmaster rather than in a private capacity, once again protested against the Dementors he had stationed at the school.
And the Dementors also stated that they had suffered a massacre at Hogwarts. If they could not get justice for them, they would not compromise, or something along those lines.
He didn't wake his wife. He tiptoed out of bed, put on his slippers, crossed the corridor, and walked to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, he carefully looked at himself. He was no longer young. The recent events had added a lot of white to his hair, which was no longer the pure gray it used to be. The deep-set eye sockets and the slight bloodshot in his eyeballs showed that his sleep quality was not good. There was also a slightly bulging belly. He usually liked to exercise, but since that Black broke out of prison, his free time had disappeared. Everything had changed. The defense of Azkaban was questioned, and the Dementors were causing him trouble everywhere, even provoking Dumbledore. His authority was also being questioned (in fact, it had never really existed). There were headaches everywhere.
He was now hesitating about which side to be tougher on, Dumbledore or the Dementors, and which side to show a little goodwill to.
From the bottom of his heart, he didn't want to give in to Dumbledore. When he first came to power, he really didn't have much confidence in his ability, so he often asked Dumbledore for advice. However, after staying in the Minister's seat for a long time, his confidence slowly grew. He still asked Dumbledore for advice, but less and less often. He believed that he was capable of being the Minister.
He became fascinated with the feeling of being the Minister of Magic and everything this position brought him.
Asking Dumbledore for advice always made Fudge feel inferior, as if he had returned to his student days, with himself as the student and Dumbledore as the teacher.
This sense of contrast made him, who was used to sitting in a high position, extremely resistant.
In comparison, these Dementors were much easier to manage. It was with these monsters that he could truly appreciate his intellectual superiority.
"Bang, bang, bang."
The sound of impact came from the bathroom window one after another, which annoyed him. When he walked over, he realized that it was an owl causing trouble.
How long has it been since he became the Minister that he stopped using owls?
Although he had joined the ranks of pure-blood families in order to better gain support, it must be said that he felt that Muggle things were still very useful. Electric lights and telephones were extremely convenient. Who gave him this suggestion?
Was it that little ghost from the Lucius family? Last time, he had to bleed a lot. Fudge was very impressed with this boy.
Thoughts turned quickly in his mind, and he didn't stop. He walked over and opened the window. He thought that if it was a letter of praise written to him by his admirers, he would forgive the sender.
Unfortunately, after reading the letter, he immediately fell to the floor of the bathroom. His eyes went black for a while, but he didn't pass out immediately. Reason told him that if he passed out now, his political career would be completely over.
In fact, it was almost the same now.
The letter was written by his subordinate, who first explained why he used an owl—because the phone could not be connected due to overdue fees. In order to show the urgency of the matter, he explained that he could only use owls and manpower to rush to his home at the same time, with whoever arrived first to notify him. Almost without any interval, he heard a burst of knocking on the door outside.
But now his legs were a little weak, and he didn't even have the strength to stand up.
The main idea of the letter can be summarized in one sentence: "The Dementors collectively went on strike and disappeared, and Azkaban fell into chaos." The news hit him like a sap, completely knocking him out.
"How dare those inferior creatures! How dare they!" he roared, his eyes red and his veins bulging. The elegant demeanor he had shown in order to win over the masses had long been thrown to the winds.
"There is still a chance, there is still a chance. As long as that person arrives in time, I still have a chance." Suddenly, he seemed to have found a life-saving straw again, and he muttered to himself in a low voice. The strength in his legs seemed to have returned, and he stood up and moved step by step towards the door with all his strength.
Dumbledore was now his only hope!
If he now knew that the only hope in his heart was one of the instigators of this incident, he didn't know what he would think.
Time went back to a few hours ago.
After expelling and eliminating those Dementors who had forcibly broken into Hogwarts, Dumbledore immediately returned to his office, arbitrarily drew a quill from the pen holder, and began to write rustlingly on a piece of parchment. His brow furrowed from time to time, and occasionally he had to push his glasses. For an old man, sitting and writing for a long time was not an easy task. After a long time, he put down his pen, looked at the slender page of parchment with circles nested inside circles of ornate script, and let out a long breath.
Dumbledore himself was not enthusiastic about power, at least not now, so he did not like to spend time on some unnecessary "etiquette."
Dumbledore preferred "heart-to-heart talks," but Fudge seemed to hate this way of communicating more and more, so he could only choose a more formal way to communicate with him.
Anyone in the circle must abide by the rules of the game, and he was no exception. His identity was the headmaster of Hogwarts. The other party was the Minister of Magic. This was both fame and glory, and shackles and restrictions.
He could not do whatever he wanted, and even this kind of communication had to adopt a formal written expression.
In fact, he quite hoped to eliminate all the Dementors cleanly. In his opinion, this kind of creature was useless, but if he really did this, Fudge would have even bigger disputes.
"Hey, is your head starting to hurt again? Every time you encounter a problem, you always tease your bird," the portrait hanging on the wall said, his voice a bit gloomy and hoarse. He was Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather, who had once served as the headmaster of Hogwarts.
"Correct yourself, this is a phoenix," Dumbledore explained in a serious manner, while walking around the desk to the perch. Then, his brow relaxed, and he opened his long arms, moved them a bit, and then took out his wand and summoned a ball of brilliant flame at the tip of the wand. (To be continued.)
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