novelhk Chapter 208 The Enraged Minister of Magic
Chapter 208 The Enraged Minister of Magic
Chapter 208 The Enraged Minister of Magic
Just as Scarface was criticizing the Ministry of Magic for being riddled with holes by the Death Eaters, he suddenly heard a series of howling sounds coming from the horizon.
Looking up, one could see Scrimgeour leading the way, with fifty or sixty people riding flying brooms, followed by seven or eight ornate carriages, which landed like a dark cloud covering the sky.
Before the carriage had come to a complete stop, Fudge hurriedly pushed open the door and jumped down.
He had heard from Scrimgeour about the terrible state of Azkaban on his way here, and now, seeing the fortress crumble and the corpses strewn everywhere, it was as if his three souls had been taken away and his seven spirits had left his body.
His face turned ashen, his legs went weak, and he stumbled backward.
"minister!"
Umbridge rushed forward and placed her hands on Fudge's arms. The woman, with tears in her eyes, said sincerely, "You must take care of yourself. Only you can lead us to stabilize the situation now."
As the saying goes, "A kind word warms the heart for three winter months." Umbridge's compliment hit the nail on the head.
Fudge felt an unnamed heat rising from the Yongquan acupoint to the top of his head, and his limbs and bones, which had just lost their vitality, instantly regained their strength.
He took a deep breath, abruptly broke free from Umbridge's embrace, and straightened up. He then solemnly straightened his robes, smoothing out each wrinkle, truly restoring his dignified bearing.
He said in a deep voice, "Rest assured, Dolores, don't forget that I am the Minister of Magic."
Harry could never stand such pretentious behavior. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and deliberately raised his voice, as if a thunderclap had broken out in the air.
"What kind of minister is he! He's nothing but a dog under that Wizengamot!"
These words were like a sharp knife piercing his heart. Upon hearing this, Fudge's face turned purple, and he whirled around, his eyes fixed on Harry like those of a hawk.
"That's quite surprising, Mr. Potter."
"You've been in Azkaban for less than 24 hours, and such a big thing has happened."
"The prison was destroyed, a large number of prisoners died, and even old Ike turned into some kind of dark wizard from five hundred years ago!"
"What an incredible coincidence!"
As Fuji's voice grew louder, it eventually became so powerful that his beard and hair stood on end, and his shouts were so intense that they made all the officials around him tremble.
But Harry wouldn't have any of it, he just crossed his arms and sneered.
"Huh! You say it's a coincidence? I was just about to ask you that! How come I was attacked and killed the moment I arrived in Azkaban! How come no one noticed that Extis had been hiding under your noses for years!"
"I think you, this worthless official, are clearly in cahoots with that sorcerer!"
Fudge was taken aback, then burst into furious laughter. "Me? The Minister of Magic, colluding with a dark wizard from 500 years ago?!"
"Mr. Harry Potter, you should know that defamation is a crime!"
Harry raised his head and replied, "Since you know the law, do you know what the punishment is for murder?"
Upon hearing these words, Fudge was truly furious, feeling as if he were burning with rage.
Seeing that things weren't going well, and fearing further complications, Scrimgeour quickly stepped forward and whispered in Fudge's ear, "Minister, Mr. Potter is still a minor. What if Skeeter, the reporter, is nearby—"
"We still don't understand how she got the photos of the pyramid of heads that night at the Quidditch World Cup."
Fuji Noodles twitched a few times, swallowing the words that were rising in his throat, and hurriedly ordered his men to quickly investigate the scene.
The group accepted the order and immediately got to work.
The officials of the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters first examined Extis's wand repeatedly, and then searched the ruins of Azkaban inside and out.
The Silent Ones of the Mysterious Affairs Department sent out some brain-like creatures that wandered among the bloody mess, dissecting each of the scattered corpses and identifying them clearly.
They were busy for half an hour before finally stopping.
"Reporting to the Minister, Mr. Potter is correct. Old Ike's wand did indeed cast the Unforgivable Curse a few hours ago, which also contained many ancient dark magic spells—"
"Minister Fudge, I've finished counting. All 876 prisoners are accounted for. There are 35 survivors, 24 of whom had their souls drained by the Dementors, and the rest are all dead."
When Fouché heard the series of terrible news reported by his subordinate, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning. For a moment, the world spun around him, his legs felt unsteady, and he felt that he might not be able to hold onto his ministerial position.
Readers should know: This once vast prison fortress of Azkaban has been reduced to ruins, and more than eight hundred lives have vanished. Among them, how many were relatives and followers of powerful families, and how many were shady agents working for the powerful?
If this matter were to spread, regardless of public opinion within the magical world, political enemies would not miss such a golden opportunity and would certainly seize it to launch an attack.
In his utter confusion, he vaguely sought out his confidant, Umbridge, for advice.
He turned around and saw that the woman had already retreated ten steps away, and was bending down to examine a stubborn rock closely, staring at it intently, refusing to even glance at him.
That bitch!
They're completely unreliable!
A despicable sycophant who only knows how to flatter!
Fudge silently cursed a whole host of obscenities in his mind before finally suppressing his anger and shouting at a silent man, "Where are the Dementors? Summon them!"
Upon hearing this, the Aurors who had come to their aid earlier all kept their eyes down and remained silent, not one of them responding.
Scrimgeour coughed lightly, took two quick steps, and whispered in her ear, "I forgot to tell you, Minister, all the Dementors have mysteriously disappeared."
Upon hearing this, Fudge was struck dumb, stunned for a long time. Suddenly, his beard and hair stood on end, and he let out a thunderous roar.
"Disappeared?!"
"Why did they just disappear all of a sudden!"
The sound shook the ruins, sending dust flying. Scrimgeour took three steps back, rubbing his numb ears, and said, "Minister, have you forgotten? Dementors are creatures created by the dark wizard Extis."
"If Extis were still alive, the Dementors would obviously obey his commands."
Fudge was so anxious he was burning up. He paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, his forehead covered in beads of sweat, looking like an ant on a hot pan.
If Azkaban were to fall, he would at most lose his official position; but if those Dementors were to escape and cause death, he would likely become a thief in that new prison tomorrow.
At this point, he no longer cared about decorum or dignity. His eyes turned bloodshot as if he wanted to devour someone. He rushed to Harry in three strides and hoarsely asked, "Where are the Dementors?!"
"I remember you can control Dementors—maybe you have some kind of telepathic connection with them?"
Answer me!
Seeing his disheveled state, Harry chuckled and said, "Minister, have you forgotten what I said before? I told you long ago that these black bastards have been in school for too long and only know the school rules, not the law."
"Now that you've recalled them to Azkaban to guard the city, it seems you only remember the law and not the rules, so my words have no effect."
Seeing Harry's grinning face, Fudge's grip on his wand tightened suddenly, a sly smile creeping across his face. He whispered, "Harry, I know you're no ordinary wizard—you must know something, right? Hmm?"
"Cooperating with the Ministry of Magic is the duty of every wizard—"
Seeing his embarrassed expression, Harry's black aura on his poisonous arm instantly began to writhe like snakes. He narrowed his eyes and said, "I'll just say I don't know. What are you going to do about it?"
Fudge's pupils dilated suddenly. "Then I have no choice but to..."
Before the words were finished, a whistling sound suddenly came from mid-air, making people's ears go numb.
Everyone turned around in surprise, only to see a gigantic dragon coming from the sky, its scales reflecting the sunlight, like a golden-armored god general emerging from the dark clouds.
The dragon shot straight down, landing with a loud "boom," sending up a cloud of dust and debris, like a firecracker being set off.
As the smoke and dust cleared, Harry looked closely and realized that the dragon was none other than Norbert.
An old witch with white hair and beard, dressed in a checkered nightgown, jumped off the dragon's back and said, "Connelly, the Wizarding Law clearly states that torture is prohibited."
Upon seeing the old shaman's true appearance, everyone hurriedly removed their hats and bowed.
Fudge froze instantly, hurriedly shoving the wand into his waistband, and gritted his teeth as he spat out the words.
"You don't mind feeding him the True Vomit, do you, Dumbledore?"
"Of course—that won't do either." Dumbledore forced a smile, strode over to Harry, and stopped in front of him. "He's the victim, isn't he?"
Seeing the old man shielding Harry behind him again, Fudge added fuel to the fire, roaring, "You're taking his side again!"
"Is Harry Potter your illegitimate child?! Where has your fairness and justice gone?!"
Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Connelly, special circumstances require special treatment."
"Ha! Yes! Mr. Potter is the most special person in the world!"
Fudge scoffed, then shouted in a frenzied manner, "Neither the destruction of Azkaban nor the escape of the Dementors is anything special!"
"Even if everyone in the world died, it wouldn't be as important as a single hair on Mr. Harry Potter's head!"
Dumbledore merely glanced at it coldly, then suddenly uttered, "Compared to the fact that Voldemort is still alive, these things are indeed nothing special."
When Fudge heard the name "Voldemort" for the first time, it was as if he had seen a ghost in broad daylight, and fear flashed in his eyes.
Dumbledore approached slowly and said, "Two years ago, all the evidence pointed to Voldemort opening the Chamber of Secrets, but you refused to believe it and even tried to suppress the news."
"Because that could very well jeopardize your position as minister, and you don't have the ability to lead the entire wizarding world against him, right?"
"I gave you a chance, Fudge."
Hearing Dumbledore address him by his surname, Fudge's anger seemed to vanish like a cold wind blowing away his fury. His previous rage dissipated instantly, leaving only a sense of unease churning within him.
After a long silence, the man finally didn't dare to respond, only managing to utter a few indistinct words through gritted teeth.
"—Then let's take Mr. Potter with us—he doesn't even have a wand, so he really can't do these things—"
Dumbledore smiled again and nodded slightly to Fudge. "Thank you for your understanding, Cornelius."
Having said that, he flipped himself onto the dragon's spine.
Without hesitation, Harry somersaulted and leaped behind him.
Dumbledore glanced down again. "I will take Harry back to the Ministry of Magic to await his trial, Minister."
Immediately afterward, Norbert spread its wings, kicking up a cloud of dust, and carried the two of them straight into the sky.
Amidst the churning sea of clouds, Harry clapped his hands and laughed, bowing to Dumbledore and saying, "Professor, you've had quite the show today! No wonder you're known as the White Demon King in the martial arts world. Truly, there are no wrong titles, only wrong names!"
In the past, Dumbledore would have joked with Harry, but now he had no desire to joke at all. His face remained expressionless as he simply asked softly, "Are you hurt?"
Harry replied, "Professor, please don't worry, I'm perfectly fine."
Dumbledore nodded. "I told you not to kill, but more than eight hundred people have died."
Harry waved his hand. "Professor, you've really been wronged! I only intended to teach those Dementors to drain the souls of the Death Eaters and turn them into walking corpses."
"Who would have thought that the old warden was actually the black wizard Extis from five hundred years ago in disguise? This guy has some connection with me and wants to take my life and steal my invisibility cloak."
"At that time, we were unarmed, without even a wand. We were struggling to protect ourselves, let alone care about the lives of so many people."
Dumbledore simply shook his head. "You can leave on your Animagus."
Harry was displeased by this. "The professor always says such unpleasant things!"
"If I were to desert in the face of battle, wouldn't all the heroes of the martial world laugh their heads off? From now on, don't call me Scarface anymore, just call me Cowardly Coward!"
Dumbledore sighed. "I don't mean for you to run away. I mean for you to fight him somewhere else."
"Azkaban was a very special entity; it accepted criminals from all over Europe. The prisoners it held were involved in many complex interests among the powerful."
Harry suddenly realized, "Could it be that someone is openly in jail, but secretly trying to avoid trouble?"
Dumbledore turned around in surprise. "You seem to know a lot about this stuff?"
"Professor, you flatter me. I only have a superficial understanding."
Dumbledore was speechless, only rubbing his temples. "Once word gets out about last night, I think I'll have to make another trip to Wizengamor."
Harry didn't care at all, waving his hand, "Why bother with those old geezers? If they cause trouble, just call on the Boxers and take them down!"
After saying that, he pointed his finger at the sun and pulled out a memory to hand over.
"My trip has not been in vain. This memory was captured from the mind of Extis. Please examine it carefully, Professor."
Dumbledore received the memory and examined it intently, as if his soul had wandered into the void. Seeing Voldemort conjure a living, breathing body from a single strand of his hair, he exclaimed in astonishment, "He can actually do this?!"
Harry asked eagerly, "Professor, now that you've seen this technique, do you understand its intricacies? Are you capable of performing it?"
Dumbledore remained silent for a long time, then said in a deep voice, "I can't do it."
"I've never even heard of this kind of magic before."
Upon hearing Dumbledore's words, Harry's heart sank, and he cursed, "Damn it! What bad luck! Voldemort really did learn something from going back a thousand years."
Dumbledore tapped the dragon's scales. "To be more precise, I suspect he stole Lady Ravenclaw's wisdom."
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