HP: Beyond Miracle

"Fudge, I want to know what you're really thinking."

The Minister's office, Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore climbed out of the fireplace, paying no attention to the soot clinging to his beard. His expression was solemn as he strode to the Minister's desk.

Fudge rested his chin on one hand, looking thoroughly distracted.

"Ah, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"I suppose you've come because of the newspapers again?"

He waved his hand dismissively.

"I've already said it before. The public has the right to speak freely. Even as Minister for Magic, I have no authority to silence them."

The explanation sounded perfectly righteous.

Unfortunately...

Dumbledore knew Fudge far too well to be fooled.

He placed the newspaper he was carrying onto the desk, revealing today's largest headline.

[Hogwarts: A Haven for Young Wizards... or an Abyss?]

Fudge glanced down.

It was that morning's Daily Prophet.

Once again, the front-page story had been written by Rita Skeeter.

[A Dawn Richter We All Owe an Apology]

[Over the past several months, I believe most readers have come to understand that the Halloween Incident was nothing more than slander orchestrated by the Avery family.

As responsible members of the wizarding world, we cannot simply ignore our own mistakes.

When I think about the inaccurate articles I myself once wrote after being deceived...

I find myself unable to sleep.

So I continued investigating this young wizard's past.

What I discovered only broke my heart further.

Dawn Richter... A child born in 1980... Never experienced a happy childhood.

His mother died young.

After his father remarried, he was abandoned in Kent to fend for himself.

As a result...

He grew up lonely. He had almost no friends.

According to those who knew him, after discovering the existence of the magical world, Dawn once confessed that he loved Hogwarts because it finally felt like home.

And what became of that dream?

Because of one despicable conspiracy... A child longing for affection became the target of an entire nation.

In order to uncover the truth—and prevent those behind the plot from succeeding—that poor child was forced to leave school alone, wandering through the wizarding world with nowhere to turn.

And throughout all of this... Hogwarts, under Dumbledore's leadership, chose to maintain the lie.

It did nothing. It merely continued pretending everything was fine.

I cannot help but grieve.

A castle that should have been every young wizard's refuge instead became an abyss...

One that swallowed that child's chance to ever see the light again.]

The corner of Fudge's mouth twitched.

It was remarkably well written.

Heartbreaking.

Moving.

Except...

Every time he tried imagining Dawn Richter as the helpless child described in the article...

A strange sense of black comedy overwhelmed him.

Who exactly is this "poor little victim" supposed to be?!

The Minister screamed internally.

Meanwhile...

Dumbledore never took his eyes off him.

When these articles had first begun appearing, Dumbledore hadn't paid them much attention.

There had simply been too many pressing matters demanding his time.

He had assumed they were nothing more than sensational journalism.

But...

Nearly three months had passed.

After finally clearing enough of his endless workload to catch his breath... He suddenly realized something astonishing.

Public opinion regarding Dawn had completely reversed.

A full one hundred and eighty degrees.

The moment he noticed... His brief respite vanished.

Without resting...

He came straight to the Ministry.

Someone had clearly been allowing these articles to continue. And there was no doubt in his mind that Fudge was involved.

His voice grew heavy.

"Fudge."

"You've met Dawn, haven't you? After he emerged from beyond the Veil?"

Knowing Fudge...

There was no possibility he would suddenly rehabilitate Dawn's reputation out of kindness.

Which left only one explanation.

Dumbledore found himself remembering Slughorn.

His gaze instinctively drifted toward Fudge's sleeve.

Unfortunately...

The man's robes concealed his wrists.

He couldn't determine whether an Unbreakable Vow had left its telltale fiery markings there.

"Oh, Dumbledore..."

"You know me."

Fudge instinctively slipped into the polished tone of a seasoned politician.

"When would I ever do such a thing?"

He pushed the newspaper back across the desk with complete confidence.

"I have absolutely no reason to. In fact... I've been rather troubled by these articles myself."

Dumbledore frowned.

He was just about to ask Fudge to roll up his sleeve... When the Minister spoke again.

"Actually... Headmaster Dumbledore... I was about to ask you the very same question.

What if all this is your doing?"

He calmly turned the accusation around.

"I distinctly remember that after last Halloween... You spent practically every day at the Ministry insisting Dawn Richter was innocent."

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead.

He knew perfectly well Fudge was simply trying to shift responsibility.

Still...

He hadn't expected him to use this particular argument.

It was true.

After the Halloween incident... Dumbledore had done everything within his power to clear Dawn's name.

He had desperately wanted to bring the boy safely back to Hogwarts.

But that had been then.

Now... Everything had changed.

Back then...

Dawn had committed no crime.

He had been completely innocent. Simply caught in another person's scheme.

Now...

Dawn truly had become dangerous.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to explain.

Fudge interrupted him again.

"Headmaster Dumbledore. If there's nothing else... I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave.

I have a great deal of Ministry business waiting.

As for these newspaper articles... I'll pay closer attention in the future."

He politely extended a hand toward the door.

This time... Fudge genuinely had no desire to continue talking.

Just last night...

Dawn had sent him another letter.

His latest orders?

Arrange a public spell unveiling. And somehow secure several Orders of Merlin for him.

Listen to that.

Who talks like this? A spell unveiling? Since when had the wizarding world ever held those?

And multiple Orders of Merlin? As if they were something you could buy wholesale?

Fudge genuinely felt that if this continued much longer... He would soon lose his office altogether.

And once that happened...

He was terrified Dawn would simply conclude he had become useless.

Then kill him.

After the unforgettable "recruitment interview" several months earlier...

Fudge understood his new master perfectly.

The thought was strangely depressing.

Back when news of Jerusalem first reached Britain...

He had actually wondered what life would be like if Voldemort truly returned and forced him to work for him.

In Fudge's imagination... Voldemort would certainly want him to remain Minister.

That way...

The Ministry could continue serving his purposes.

Naturally... He wouldn't deliberately order Fudge to do things guaranteed to cost him his office.

It was only logical.

Every story worked that way.

But Dawn... Dawn seemed to possess absolutely no long-term planning whatsoever.

Fudge lowered his eyes miserably.

His heart overflowed with grievances.

Unfortunately... He had no one to confide in.

Watching Fudge's expression shift repeatedly while the Minister made it abundantly clear he wanted the conversation to end...

Dumbledore realized nothing more would be gained today.

With a quiet sigh, he turned toward the fireplace.

Then...

He remembered something else.

"Oh. Fudge. I already brought Peter Pettigrew to you. When will Sirius Black finally be released?"

"It's going through the proper procedures." Fudge sounded distinctly impatient.

"So much time has passed.

Peter Pettigrew supposedly died a hero.

Now he's suddenly alive again. Naturally, we have to investigate everything thoroughly."

Hearing yet another empty excuse... Dumbledore finally lost what little hope remained.

He would seek help elsewhere.

Among old friends who still cared about justice.

Shaking his head gently... The old Headmaster stepped into the fireplace.

Sometimes...

The world simply made no sense.

Those willing to follow the rules found themselves crushed beneath them.

While those who ignored every rule altogether... Achieved whatever they pleased.

After all...

Wasn't that one of life's cruelest forms of black comedy?

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