Chapter 335: Chapter 335
The next day, Fudge sat behind his spacious desk as usual, handling official business.
Sunlight slanted in through the tall windows, casting a warm patch of light on the carpet.
That carpet was handmade Persian, with golden patterns embroidered on a deep red background. Fudge had paid a high price to buy it from a certain pure-blood family the year he took office as Minister.
He liked this carpet.
He liked the soft yet elastic feeling beneath his feet when he stepped on it, and he liked how guests’ eyes would immediately be drawn to it when they entered the office.
But now, he was in no mood to appreciate the carpet.
He was in a terrible mood.
Several files were spread out in front of Fudge, but he couldn’t take in a single word.
On one hand, yesterday’s attack by Dark wizards suspected of being Death Eaters had caused widespread panic in Hogsmeade.
Since yesterday afternoon, the fireplaces of the Ministry of Magic had not stopped.
Waves of Floo Network flames lit up one after another as pale-faced wizards stumbled out of the fireplaces and shouted at the reception staff.
"Something happened in Hogsmeade! Dark wizards! Several Dark wizards!"
The news spread like wildfire.
In less than an hour, the entire wizarding world knew—
Hogsmeade had been attacked.
Some said it was the work of Death Eaters.
Some said You-Know-Who had returned.
Some said it was a gang of Dark wizards taking revenge on society.
There were many versions, but one thing was common.
Panic.
The Auror Office’s reaction was quite fast.
Less than ten minutes after receiving the news, the first batch of Aurors arrived in Hogsmeade via the Floo Network.
The second and third batches followed closely behind.
They set up cordons on the streets of Hogsmeade, sealed off the scene with magic, questioned witnesses, surveyed the site, and—
Arrested those unconscious Dark wizards.
Yes.
Arrested.
By the time the Aurors reached Hogwarts, those Dark wizards had already been tied into a bundle and neatly piled in the Headmaster’s Office.
They were all unconscious, their bodies bearing marks of lightning burns, ulcerations from curse erosion, and wounds split open by shockwaves.
And this was after Madam Pomfrey had already treated them.
The Ministry of Magic’s mailbox was also nearly bursting this morning.
Fudge almost died of anger after reading those letters.
Fortunately, those Dark wizards had been brought to justice and were now locked up in Azkaban.
In terms of the outcome, the matter was considered resolved.
The Dark wizards were caught, the hostage was rescued, and order in Hogsmeade was restored.
Although the process wasn’t very pretty, the result was good after all.
It was just that the numbers didn’t quite add up.
Some witnesses said there were six Dark wizards and one kidnapped hostage.
But the ones the Aurors brought back, including Karkaroff, who had been treated as the hostage, only totaled six.
The Aurors turned the scene upside down and even questioned Dumbledore, but that one Dark wizard seemed to have evaporated into thin air, vanishing completely.
The Head of the Auror Office’s tone was very subtle when he reported this to Fudge.
"Minister," he said, "we suspect that Dark wizard may have been—well—dealt with."
"There were traces of Fiendfyre residue at the scene, but that area was burned too clean for us to determine exactly what happened."
Fudge fell silent then.
He didn’t ask further, telling the Head of the Auror Office to write it into the report with vague wording and an open conclusion.
"The Dark wizard may have been obliterated in the explosion, and his life or death cannot be confirmed for the time being."
But none of that was important.
What truly gave him a headache was the other side of things.
Today’s front-page headline in The Daily Prophet was an article titled What is Fudge hiding—The Ministry’s Good Intentions, which firmly occupied the entire page.
The author of this article used a pseudonym that could make one’s imagination run wild just by looking at it—
Phoenix.
"It is reported that the reason Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, concealed the resurrection of You-Know-Who was for the stability of the wizarding world..."
The article read, "In Minister Fudge’s view, disclosing the news of You-Know-Who’s resurrection to the public too early would only trigger unnecessary panic."
"What the Death Eaters want to see is precisely chaos and turmoil in the wizarding world. Minister Fudge chose to use silence as a weapon, concealment as a strategy, and trade time for space..."
"The Ministry of Magic has always been protecting the safety of the people in places they cannot see."
The article continued, "Those Aurors who track Death Eaters day and night, those investigators who fight Dark wizards in the shadows, those Dementors who guard prisoners within the high walls of Azkaban—they are all contributing to the stability of the wizarding world in their own way."
"This Hogsmeade attack was just an accident, one that was quickly controlled without causing greater losses. Without the Ministry’s prior deployment and warnings, the consequences would have been unimaginable..."
Throughout the entire article, there wasn’t a single word disparaging the Ministry of Magic.
It was all about how difficult things were for the Ministry and how Fudge had been secretly dealing with the Death Eaters.
The tone of the article was praising.
The stance was supportive.
And the conclusion was certain.
Fudge was a good Minister.
The Ministry of Magic was a good department.
They had been silently protecting everyone.
But this article made Fudge feel worse than if he had eaten filth.
It gave him the feeling of being led by the nose.
If he rebutted it, it would prove that the Ministry was incompetent, and then he, as the Minister for Magic, would be suspected of dereliction of duty.
The price was too high.
Fudge couldn’t afford it.
If he didn’t rebut it...
Then he would be effectively admitting to everything written in the article.
What if You-Know-Who really had returned?
Wouldn’t he be finished?
Although he didn’t believe You-Know-Who had truly returned—
But what if?
Fudge didn’t quite dare to gamble.
He sighed, walked back from the window to his desk, and sat down.
He picked up the newspaper that had been laid face down on the desk, flipped it over, and read the article again from beginning to end.
He made his final choice.
Not to rebut.
...
Deep in a forest in Scotland, unknown to outsiders, there stood a palace-style building.
This had originally been an old house abandoned for over a decade.
There were cracks in the walls, holes in the roof, most of the windows were broken, and the door was crooked, creaking whenever the wind blew.
From the outside, one couldn’t tell there was a house here at all. All one could see was a dense thicket of bushes.
But not long ago, it had been renovated and welcomed its new owner.
The renovation process was very fast.
So fast that the nearby Muggles didn’t even notice.
In fact, the nearby Muggles couldn’t have noticed anyway.
It was too remote, with the nearest village dozens of miles away and the nearest road more than a dozen miles away.
At this moment, in the dim room, Lord Voldemort angrily set fire to the newspaper in his hand.
His useful manpower was already scarce, and now he had lost six at once.
"Useless! A bunch of useless fools! They couldn’t even bring back one Karkaroff! And they actually got themselves locked in Azkaban!"
The Death Eaters below were as silent as cicadas in winter.
They stood in two rows, heads bowed, looking at their toes, not even daring to breathe loudly.
No one dared look up at Lord Voldemort.
No one dared speak.
And no one dared move.
The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fireplace flames and the tapping of Lord Voldemort’s fingers on the armrest.
After a long silence, Lord Voldemort’s voice rang out again.
"Avery."
His gaze fell on the third person on the right.
He was a tall, thin man in his forties with graying hair and several deep wrinkles on his face, looking as if they had been carved with a knife.
Avery trembled slightly upon being named.
He took half a step forward, head bowed, and said in a tone so respectful it was almost humble, "Everything you assigned is going smoothly, my respected Master. They will soon be at your disposal."
Lord Voldemort simply watched him.
For a long time—
"Well done, Avery."
Lord Voldemort finally spoke, a hint of barely perceptible satisfaction in his voice.
"What reward do you want?"
Avery’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
He took a deep breath and said in an even humbler tone than before, "Being able to serve my Master is my greatest reward."
Lucius Malfoy below: ????
What were those two talking about?
Why didn’t he understand the question?
What had the Dark Lord assigned to Avery?
Why didn’t he know about it?
Lucius remembered the last time he had volunteered, which was several months ago.
That day, Lord Voldemort had gathered the Death Eaters, saying he needed someone to handle something.
Lucius had been the first to stand up, saying, "Master, I am willing to go."
Lord Voldemort had only looked at him, remained silent for several seconds, and then said, "No need."
No explanation.
No reason.
Just "No need."
At the time, Lucius thought Lord Voldemort felt the matter was unimportant and didn’t require his personal involvement.
But looking at it now—
Did the Dark Lord not trust him?
Lucius’s fingers unconsciously rubbed together inside his robe pocket.
He was thinking about a question.
Should he send a message to Lynn for help right now?
Before Lucius could make a decision, Lord Voldemort spoke once more.
This time, his gaze fell on a figure on the other side.
"Alex."
Alex was a young Death Eater, appearing to be in his early thirties.
He stood next to Lucius, positioned slightly behind him.
In the ranks of the Death Eaters, he was lower than Lucius.
His body suddenly tensed the moment Lord Voldemort called his name.
"And your matter?" Lord Voldemort’s voice was calm.
Alex’s lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.
He took one deep breath.
Then another.
Only then did he barely squeeze out a sentence.
"Master, it is a bit difficult to handle. Our people encountered some obstacles."
Lord Voldemort’s eyes narrowed.
"So... your matter was not accomplished."
Alex knew that any defense at this time would be futile, so he knelt down directly.
"Yes... Master, please punish me!"
"Crucio."
A crimson light shot from the tip of Lord Voldemort’s wand.
Alex’s body arched violently.
His mouth opened, wanting to scream, but no sound came out.
His eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints, and the whites of his eyes became bloodshot.
A silent scream was more hair-raising than any sound.
Looking at Alex, who had collapsed in pain, Lucius was instantly drenched in cold sweat.
"Useless! You can’t even handle such a small matter! What use do I have for you?"
Lord Voldemort’s gaze moved away from Alex and swept around the room.
"Lucius."
Lucius felt his heart skip a beat at that moment.
He took a deep breath, forced himself to calm down, then took half a step forward, bowed his head, and said in a tone even more respectful than usual, "Master, please give your orders."
Lord Voldemort stared at Lucius for a few moments.
He had been inclined to hand this matter over to Lucius.
But on second thought, Lucius was his walking wallet.
If something happened to Lucius...
"Never mind."
Lord Voldemort withdrew his gaze.
"I will handle it personally in a while."
Lucius’s brain short-circuited at that moment.
He opened his mouth, just about to volunteer, but upon meeting Lord Voldemort’s icy gaze, all those words got stuck in his throat.
Lucius swallowed his words back and lowered his head again.
"Yes, Master."
A brief Death Eater meeting thus concluded.
Before Lucius had even walked out of the castle, he immediately sent a message to Lynn.
Platinum Gentleman: [The Dark Lord is about to act. Location unknown, content unknown, target unknown. Take precautions.]
The other side replied instantly.
Lynn: [???]
Lynn: [Oh! My dear business partner, has your head had some kind of intimate contact with a donkey’s hoof? It’s making the information you’re passing on so incomprehensible.]
Platinum Gentleman: [I really don’t know.]
Lynn: [Fine, I’ll watch out. You stay safe too. Remember to ask for help if you encounter danger.]
---
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