HP Approaches the Magic World

In fact, Jon was not very leisurely during the holidays at Hogwarts.

In other words, he gets busier as the holidays come. He has to be responsible for some preparation work for the Order of the Phoenix, as well as the laboratory. Grindelwald will leave in more than a year, but a new round of experiments in the laboratory

The staff has not been trained yet, so he still has to take on some of the things here.

Fortunately, however, these things are within his tolerance.

In contrast, the other person who was suddenly hit was not so lucky.

…

It was almost midnight, and the Prime Minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memorandum, but his mind went blank and he had no idea what it meant.

He was waiting for a call from the president of a distant country.

On the one hand, he doubted whether the unfortunate guy would call at all, and on the other hand, he suppressed many unpleasant memories of this long and tiring week, so there was not much room in his mind for other things.

The more he tried to concentrate on reading the words on the paper in front of him, the more clearly he saw the gloating face of one of his political opponents.

This political opponent was on the news that day, not only listing all the terrible accidents that had happened in the previous week (as if anyone needed reminding), but also succinctly analyzing each accident as being the fault of the government.

Caused.

The Prime Minister's pulse beat faster when he thought of these accusations, because they were unjust and untrue.

How could his government have prevented that bridge from collapsing?

Some people even suggest that the government does not invest enough in bridge construction. This is really intolerable.

The bridge was built less than ten years ago, and even the best experts could not explain how it suddenly broke neatly in two, causing more than a dozen cars to plunge into the deep river below.

In addition, some people actually suggested that it was the lack of police force that led to the two vicious murders that were widely reported, and that the government should have foreseen the strange hurricane in the west that caused huge losses to people's lives and property.

Also, is it also his fault that one of his assistant ministers, Herbert Jolet, has been acting strangely this week, saying he wants to spend more time with his family?

"The whole country is in panic."

The opposition member finally concluded, barely concealing the proud smile on his face.

Unfortunately, this is indeed the case.

The Prime Minister himself has also felt that people are indeed more panicked than usual. Even the weather is not satisfactory. It is still mid-July and there is already a cold fog... This is very wrong and abnormal...

He turned to the second page of the memo and found that the content behind it was still very long. Knowing that it was impossible to read it all, he simply gave up.

He stretched his arms above his head and looked gloomily at his office.

This is a very grand room, with a beautiful marble fireplace facing a long sash window, which is tightly closed to block out the unseasonable cold fog outside.

The Prime Minister shivered slightly, stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the thin mist clinging to the window glass.

As he stood there with his back to the room, he heard a soft cough behind him.

He froze, his own frightened face reflected in the dark windowpane in front of him.

He knew the coughing sound, he had heard it before, and then he turned slowly to face the empty room.

"Hello?" he said, trying to sound brave.

At that moment, he knew it was impossible, but he still vaguely hoped that no one would agree to it.

However, a voice immediately answered. This voice was crisp and decisive, as if he was reading a prepared speech.

The Prime Minister knew when he heard the first cough that it came from the little frog-like man in a long silver wig, who was the figure in a dirty little oil painting in the corner across the room.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister.

If you request an urgent meeting, please reply immediately.

Sincerely, Fudge."

The man in the painting looks at the Prime Minister questioningly.

"Well," said the Prime Minister, "listen...this time is not right for me...I'm waiting for a call...from a President—"

"That can be rearranged," the portrait said without hesitation.

The Prime Minister's heart sank. This was what he was worried about.

"But I do want to speak to him—"

"We'll ask the President to forget about the phone call, and he'll call again tomorrow night," the little man said. "Please reply to Mr. Fudge immediately."

"I...oh...ok," the Prime Minister said helplessly, "Okay, I'll see Fudge."

He hurried to his desk and straightened his tie.

As soon as he sat down and adjusted his facial expression to be as relaxed and calm as he hoped, he saw bright green flames suddenly burst out from the empty grate under the marble fireplace.

The Prime Minister tried his best to hide his surprise and panic, and watched helplessly as a big fat man appeared in the middle of the flames, spinning rapidly like a top.

A few seconds later, the big fat man stepped across the grate, holding a yellow-green round hat in his hand, stood on an antique carpet, and dusted the ashes on the sleeves of his thin striped cloak.

"Ah... Prime Minister," Cornelius Fudge said, striding over and extending a hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

The Prime Minister did not want to answer this polite remark from the bottom of his heart, so he said nothing.

He didn't want to see Fudge at all. Fudge's previous appearances, apart from being particularly alarming, usually meant hearing some particularly bad news.

Besides, Fudge looked obviously worried this time.

He is thinner than before, his face is darker, his head is bald, and his face looks wrinkled.

The Prime Minister has seen this look on the faces of politicians, and generally speaking, it's not a good sign.

"Can I help you with anything?"

the Prime Minister asked, hurriedly shaking Fudge's hand and motioning for him to sit on the hardest chair in front of the table.

"I don't know where to start," Fudge muttered, pulling up a chair and sitting down, putting the green bowler hat on his knees, "This week has been really tough, really tough..."

"Are you having a bad week too?"

The Prime Minister asked with a straight face. He wanted the other party to understand that he had enough things to worry about himself and did not want to share anything more with Fudge.

"Yes, that goes without saying."

Fudge said as he rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked at the Prime Minister sadly: "I've been through the same thing as you this week, Prime Minister.

Brockdale Bridge...the murders of Bones and Vance...not to mention the unrest in the West..."