HP Approaches the Magical World

"HP Approaches the Magic World ()"

"There are no hurricanes at all."

Fudge said distressedly.

"What are you talking about!" the Prime Minister yelled, and he couldn't help stamping his feet. "Trees were uprooted, roofs were torn down, road signs turned into bends, and a large number of casualties—"

"It's all the Death Eaters," said Fudge, "the followers of the one who can't even be named. And...we also suspect that giants were involved."

The Prime Minister stopped abruptly, as if hitting an invisible wall.

"What's involved?"

Fudge grimaced.

"Last time he used the giants, trying to create a big momentum.

Right now, the folks at the Misinformation Office are working overtime, and we've sent out several batches of amnestics to modify the memories of all the Muggles who witnessed what happened,

Most of the Department of Magical Creatures staff had been sent to Somerset, where they scoured but couldn't find the giant - what a disaster. "

"That's impossible!" said the Prime Minister angrily.

"I don't deny that the people in the Ministry are panicked and morale is low."

"That's not all," said Fudge, "and then Amelia Bones disappeared."

"Who is missing?"

"Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

We believe that the unnamed lord killed her himself, because she was a gifted witch, and all indications were that she had fought hard. "

Fudge cleared his throat, and then, with what seemed to be an effort, stopped spinning his bowler hat.

"But the murder was reported in the papers,"

Forgetting his anger for a moment, the Prime Minister said, "Our newspaper.

Amelia Bones... says she's a single middle-aged woman, and it's a vicious murder, isn't it?

This incident has been widely circulated, and the police have no idea where to start. "

Fudge sighed: "Well, that's natural, she was killed in a room locked from the inside, wasn't she?

We know exactly who did it, but that doesn't help us catch the guy either.

And Emmeline Vance, which you may not have heard—"

"Of course I've heard!"

The Prime Minister said, "In fact, it happened around the corner from here, and the papers made a big deal about it: defying the law in the Prime Minister's backyard—"

"As if this wasn't bad enough," Fudge said, barely listening to the Prime Minister, and just said to himself, "Now Dementors are everywhere, attacking people at any time..."

In the carefree days, the Prime Minister would have found this sentence incomprehensible, but now he knew a lot.

"I remember, the dementors guard the prisoners of Azkaban?"

"It used to be," said Fudge wearily. "It's not now. They've left the prison for the one who can't even be named. It's a disaster, I must admit."

"But," said the Prime Minister, growing a sense of dread in him, "didn't you tell me that they are creatures that suck out people's hopes and joys?"

"Yes. And they are still multiplying, so these fogs are formed."

The Prime Minister's knees gave way and he sank into the chair closest to him.

He felt himself fainting at the thought of these invisible beings flitting about cities and country, sowing gloom and desperation among his constituents.

"Listen to me, Fudge - you must do something! It's your duty as Minister for Magic!"

"My dear Prime Minister, after all that has happened, do you really think I can still be Minister for Magic?

I stepped down three days ago, and the wizarding world has been clamoring for my resignation for two weeks.

I have been in office for so many years, and I have never seen them so united! "

Fudge smiled forcedly as he spoke.

The Prime Minister was momentarily speechless, outraged that he had been put in such a position, and at the same time sympathetic to the shriveled-looking man sitting across from him.

"I'm very sorry," he said finally. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Thank you for your kindness, Prime Minister, but nothing more. I have been sent tonight to update you on developments and to introduce you to my successor. I thought he would be here by now. Of course, at present There's so much going on, it keeps him busy."

Fudge turned to look at the portrait of a small, ugly man in a long, curly silver wig, picking his ear with the tip of a quill.

The man in the portrait caught Fudge looking at him and said, "He'll be here in a minute. He's writing a letter to Dumbledore, and he'll be done soon."

"I wish him luck."

For the first time, said Fudge, his tone was a little bit acerbic: "I've been writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past two weeks, but he just won't change his mind.

If he's willing to persuade the boy, I'm afraid I can... Well, maybe Scrimgeour will have more success than me. "

Fudge was obviously aggrieved and fell into silence, but the man in the portrait broke his silence immediately, and spoke suddenly in a crisp official voice.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister.

Ask for a meeting.

It is urgent, please reply immediately.

Minister for Magic Rufus Scrimgeour. "

"Okay, okay, okay."

said the Prime Minister distraughtly, as the flames in the grate turned emerald green again, and a second wizard twirled in the midst of the flames.

He turned around for a while and walked to the antique carpet.

The Prime Minister looked at the scene without showing any sign of fear, Fudge stood up, the Prime Minister hesitated for a moment, then also stood up, watching the newcomer straighten up, brush off the ashes from the black robe, and look around .

The Prime Minister suddenly had the absurd idea that Rufus Scrimgeour looked like an old lion.

His tea-brown hair and bushy eyebrows are streaked with gray, and behind gold-rimmed glasses are piercing yellow eyes. Although his legs are a little lame, he walks with a kind of striding grace, which makes people immediately feel that he is A sharp, tough guy.

The Prime Minister thought he could well understand why the wizarding community wanted Scrimgeour rather than Fudge at their chief in these perilous times.

"Hello."

said the Prime Minister politely, and held out his hand to him.

Scrimgeour briefly shook the Prime Minister's hand, eyes darting around the room, and drew a wand from inside his robes.

"Fudge told you everything?"

As he asked, he strode to the door and tapped the keyhole with his wand, and the Prime Minister heard the lock click.

"Well—that's right."

"If you don't mind, I hope the door is not locked," the prime minister said.