"Yes, the Albacore Club." Anthony cautiously followed his topic and accepted the teacup Fudge offered.
"Albus always has such interesting ideas. Albacore, how fascinating!" Fudge said. "But what does this club do?"
"Well..." Anthony said. He didn't quite understand why the topic had suddenly shifted from Voldemort to tuna.
Fudge suddenly looked anxious and serious: "This isn't confidential, is it, Mr. Anthony? Ha ha, if it is, I apologize. I completely understand... Of course, I completely understand..." But his expression showed he didn't understand at all. He started rubbing his forehead with that handkerchief again.
"No, nothing confidential." Anthony said. "It's an interest club around Mermish. The Headmaster thought since we live by the Black Lake, it's perfect for learning Mermish." He didn't mention Potter's Parseltongue. Some instinct told him the Ministry shouldn't know about that.
"Mermish, of course!" Fudge exclaimed. "Why didn't I think of that! The club name is brilliant... If someone hadn't mentioned it in casual conversation, I wouldn't even know about it. Mermish..."
Anthony repeated patiently: "Yes, a club about Mermish." He prompted: "What does this have to do with that person?"
"What? Ah, no, no, you misunderstand, Mr. Anthony. Completely misunderstand." Fudge said. "This is just my small curiosity... You know, Albus is always busy. His club naturally wouldn't be registered with the Ministry..."
"Forming clubs requires Ministry registration?"
"No, we don't mandate it, but we encourage registration." Fudge tapped the teapot lid. It refilled itself. "You know, Mr. Anthony, the Ministry has always considered public safety one of the most important things—or rather, the most important thing. Registered clubs are... ah, relatively safe."
Anthony glanced at him over his teacup. Fudge immediately said: "Though I'm certainly not saying Albus's club is unsafe! Well, I mean, Albus is sometimes a bit inconsiderate... He's too busy, don't you think, Mr. Anthony?"
Anthony sipped tea: "Perhaps." He thought this question was better suited for Professor McGonagall.
"Albus is very busy." Fudge nodded. "So if he's negligent in some areas, it's understandable. You know, the Hogwarts Headmaster handles many things daily."
As if he'd been Hogwarts Headmaster himself. Fudge watched Anthony, seemed to wait for affirmation. But Anthony just drank more tea—the Minister's tea tasted much better than Scrimgeour's, though possibly because it lacked Veritaserum—so Fudge continued: "The school year isn't even over, and students suddenly lost their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Many parents are very dissatisfied."
"Really?" Anthony asked, surprised.
As far as he knew, though some complained about Snape teaching, opposition wasn't loud. Even the Daily Prophet hadn't bothered with coverage. That small opposition vanished after hearing Dumbledore set the exam.
"Of course, that's my point. You see, the public sometimes can't distinguish who's responsible. Sometimes I don't even know what happened before complaint letters demanding my resignation arrive at my office... But if someone would help us, report Hogwarts's real situation to the Ministry..."
Anthony said, somewhat amused: "Are you inviting me to be a traitor, Minister?"
Fudge looked offended: "What, Mr. Anthony! Traitor! Such an ugly word! Albus and I have never been enemies! He's just too busy, sometimes forgets to notify me... If the Ministry and Hogwarts can't communicate smoothly, how can I know Albus's true intentions, how can I help him? I just need someone to help us!"
"With respect, Minister." Anthony said. "Unless this person never wants herbal tea or butter biscuits again, it's completely impossible."
Fudge looked very annoyed for a moment, but immediately said tolerantly: "Of course, you have your own thoughts, Mr. Anthony."
The wall clock chimed. Fudge seemed to suddenly realize how late it was. Anthony asked to borrow a broom and rope. Fudge wanted Anthony to stay another night at the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley—Fudge would pay. Finally Anthony insisted he had ungraded papers. Fudge reluctantly had someone send him back.
"Lovely chatting with you, Mr. Anthony." Fudge said. "I hope you'll seriously and carefully consider my words."
So when Anthony was tied to a broomstick again, he seriously and carefully considered Fudge's words—thought the Minister was somewhat mad, otherwise why would he think Anthony might favor the Ministry—and didn't notice how reluctantly the clerk tied his broom to his own.
When Fudge led Anthony searching for lit offices, this unfortunate wizard was leaning in his chair, wand casually drawing colorful geometric patterns in the air. Seeing the Minister, he quickly lowered his wand and frowned at a stack of parchment, as if handling something urgent. Too late to grab the quill, he stared at the signature spot, then calmly set it aside.
But Fudge had begun assigning him something more urgent: send Anthony back to Hogwarts, like returning a letter whose recipient had moved. Fudge obviously didn't remember his name, but that didn't stop him naturally demanding the man work at midnight.
...
"Hold tight, Mr. Anthony." The wizard whose name the Minister couldn't remember said unkindly. Kicked off and rose shakily. Anthony and his broom hung below, flying toward Hogwarts under night's cover. He looked up. This employee wore a very large hat with a pointed brim that in dim light looked like a bird's beak.
"Can people who can't ride brooms only fly like this?" Anthony asked. Perhaps because this clerk wasn't familiar with brooms, their return speed was noticeably slower than coming.
"Yes." The other answered impatiently, then his tone softened slightly. "Flying lessons are mandatory first-year at Hogwarts."
"All right, sorry." Anthony said.
They fell silent. Flying fairly low, Anthony saw dark tree shadows passing beneath. They passed streets lit by car and streetlights, passed a town with only a few windows showing dim yellow light. A river retreated beside them away from Hogwarts, a broken moon in the water. Frogs, toads, crickets called.
"Why are you going to Hogwarts?" the official asked.
Anthony said: "Well... because I live there?"
"You live there?" The other said, surprised, and looked down at Anthony. "Are you a student or professor?"
"Professor." Anthony said. "I teach Muggle Studies."
"Oh, no wonder." The man said. "Muggles don't use brooms, right?"
"Not like wizards. Usually for sweeping floors."
"We also use brooms for sweeping. Just not flying brooms... I hate flying brooms."
"Why?"
"Can't afford them." The other said dully and sighed so long Anthony sympathetically sighed too.
Anthony said sympathetically: "I guess Ministry clerical work isn't easy either, is it? What's your name?"
"William Kuby." The other said. "No, my work isn't heavy... It just doesn't pay much." His tone was so heavy it sounded like announcing they were about to fall.
In fact, they were about to fall. Perhaps because of Mr. Kuby's heavy mood, perhaps because their broom was too old—either way, without noticing, they flew lower and lower, almost hit a lace table and lounge chair on someone's balcony.
Mr. Kuby swore—Anthony sincerely hoped he hadn't learned it at Hogwarts, since people usually learn more after working—jerked the broom up, and barely scraped past the balcony. Only let Anthony brush a flower pot by the railing. Made noise.
"Are you all right, Professor Anthony?" Mr. Kuby asked.
"Fine, I think those were pansies." Anthony said.
Then they heard a latch rattling. The window to the balcony opened. Light came on. A woman leaned out, looked around, and said: "Probably a stray cat."
"No, Mum." A child's voice said. "I saw it."
"Oh, no." Mr. Kuby muttered. "We did remember the Disillusionment Charm before leaving, didn't we, Professor Anthony?"
"Um... I think so." Anthony said. "But does the Disillusionment Charm include brooms?"
"Sigh..." Mr. Kuby said. "Well, today two drunk wizards on—" He glanced down quickly and lowered the broom past a street sign. "—Privet Drive were riding brooms, seen by a Muggle child. We don't know about this, Professor Anthony, because we weren't drinking."
Then they heard the child's voice clearly from the open window: "That was a flying sleigh. Santa's practicing. Can I get more presents this year, Mum?"
"Of course, as long as you're a good boy, darling."
"Excellent." Mr. Kuby sighed with relief. "Glad we weren't seen. Statute of Secrecy... sigh..." He sighed long again. He seemed to have many sighs.
...
After delivering Anthony to Hogwarts he had to leave—"I have work tomorrow morning, sigh..."—and Anthony had many papers ungraded. Anthony could only thank him repeatedly and had house-elves bring food for a midnight snack or breakfast.
"Oh, apple pie." Mr. Kuby looked nostalgically at the hot pastry in oil paper, leaned in and inhaled deeply. "I loved eating this at school... Is there pumpkin juice? I think I could drink some before leaving."
"Of course!" Coco, the elf closest to Anthony, squeaked. "Pumpkin juice! You can take a whole jug, sir!"
He really brought Mr. Kuby a large jug of pumpkin juice and tied it firmly to the broom.
"Would you like some beef sandwiches, sir?" Coco asked. "Fried chicken legs? Pork chops? Roasted sausages? Mashed potatoes? Chocolate ice cream?"
Mr. Kuby looked almost tearful.
"I really want..." he said. "But no, I won't be able to fly. Apple pie and pumpkin juice are good, sigh..."
"Coco has a way!" Coco said. "Coco can take sir by Apparition!"
"What?" Mr. Kuby said, surprised.
"What?" Anthony said too.
"Coco can take Mr. Kuby by Apparition!" Coco puffed his thin chest proudly. "Coco can Apparate as far as Wellington!"
"But I can't, Coco." Mr. Kuby said and crouched down. "Wizards risk splinching or other bad things in long-distance Apparition—even Side-Along."
"But thank you, Coco." Anthony said and patted the somewhat dejected Coco comfortingly. His large ears drooped listlessly.
"Coco wants to help Mr. Kuby and Professor Anthony." Coco said. "Mr. Kuby was nice to Coco at school. Professor Anthony is nice to Coco too."
Mr. Kuby asked, surprised: "You know me, Coco?" He studied Coco, seemed to recall if he'd seen such creatures at school. Except troublemakers who found the kitchens, students usually didn't know house-elves existed.
"Of course!" Coco said. "Mr. Kuby lived in the third boys' dormitory left of Ravenclaw Tower, the messiest room! We all loved tidying your room! Mr. Kuby also hid Acid Pops under the bed, made the floor all sticky!"
"Thank you, Coco." Mr. Kuby said and started sighing again.
Finally they chose the Owlery. Mr. Kuby looked delighted tying food to an owl. He said: "I feel like I'm having early Christmas, though I'm giving myself presents."
"No, this is a gift from Hogwarts Kuby to Ministry Kuby." Anthony said. Mr. Kuby mounted his broom and flew toward London with the owl.
...
Probably because many owls were missing, next morning's owl tide came later than usual. Owls that had delivered roasted potatoes and fried steaks at midnight returned with ruffled feathers, letters and newspapers tied to their legs, each looking ready to collapse into bowls of corn porridge.
"What?" Professor Sprout unfolded the Daily Prophet and exclaimed.
"What's wrong?" Anthony asked. He was cutting broccoli into strips.
Sprout didn't answer, lips pressed tight, scanning the paper rapidly. Anthony leaned over. Fudge was in the photo looking very serious. The headline: Young Wizards' Education Problem: Where Should the Magical World's Next Generation Go?
Sources reveal a secret survey among parents and concerned citizens shows alarming dissatisfaction with magical education's current state. Rumors say the magical world grows increasingly tired of Hogwarts's so-called "autonomy" and is now seeking Ministry help.
Most common complaints focus on Hogwarts's lack of oversight and accountability. Worried parents believe the school's outdated practices and closed curriculum may promote wrong ideas to students without their knowledge. They believe the Department of Education, with its resources and expertise, could bring much-needed reform.
Hogwarts Governor Lucius Malfoy, concerned about the next generation's education, claims he heard the Parkinson family's daughter suffered cruel treatment at school but was told to deny it. Additionally, his son experienced unfair treatment from professors. "I and many friends are very worried about their next generation's education," he lamented. "It's time for the Ministry to intervene and bring Hogwarts in the right direction."
Special correspondent Rita Skeeter reporting.
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