If you're not sure whether it should be said, then don't say it!
That was Fudge's true thought. The Minister was still waiting for Dumbledore to agree to his proposal—when had it become the turn of a teenage girl to jump in?
After the Welfare incident, Fudge had already noticed how much importance Dumbledore placed on Eda, so he had gathered information about her. The reason Eda had received such extensive coverage during last year's Chamber of Secrets incident was also due to Fudge's instruction.
Especially after learning that there were tensions between Dumbledore and Eda, and that Eda had countless ties to the Rosier family, Fudge began to take her seriously as well. He had even considered bringing this highly talented witch under his wing, poaching her from Dumbledore.
But before Fudge could even swing his hoe, he realized this corner couldn't be dug up.
In Hogsmeade, when Dumbledore embarrassed the Ministry, Eda had been by his side. Today, when Dumbledore came to the Ministry to discuss Black, Eda was still by his side.
Damn it—who said there was conflict between Dumbledore and Eda? Whoever wanted to dig this corner could go ahead; Fudge wasn't doing it!
Fudge very much wanted to tell Eda to shut up, to make this blonde girl keep quiet. Unfortunately, if even Dumbledore couldn't do that, who did Fudge think he was? Eda didn't even look at Fudge's constipated expression and spoke directly.
"If I remember correctly, Minister, you began your term in 1990, is that right?" Eda said. "Back then, I even discussed the Ministerial election with my classmates and seniors."
Fudge and Umbridge gave no response, but Dumbledore nodded, confirming Eda's statement. Eda was good at picking up the thread of a conversation and playing along—Dumbledore was equally skilled.
"The incident with the Potters happened in October 1981, which means the so-called betrayal by Sirius, as well as the murder of Peter Pettigrew, all took place that same year," Eda continued. "At that time, you weren't the Minister, correct?"
Eda spoke plainly. There was no point in pretending to be clueless anymore, so Fudge nodded in acknowledgment.
"That's right," Fudge said. "At the time, I was working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and the Minister of Magic was Millicent Bagnold."
"I don't really understand the structure and power hierarchy of the Ministry of Magic, but the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes wasn't responsible for interrogating Death Eaters, was it?" Eda asked again.
This series of questions was essentially building Fudge a way out—giving him a chance to distance himself from the matter. Fudge knew this as well, but as long as he didn't say it outright, he could continue to play dumb and pretend to be oblivious.
"At the time, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was Barty Crouch," Dumbledore answered for Fudge. "He was also the one who sent Sirius to Azkaban."
This iron-handed and resolute head of the department had originally been expected to become the next Minister, but his son, Barty Crouch Jr., turned out to be a Death Eater, which directly ruined his career.
Not only did he lose any chance of becoming Minister, he was also reassigned to the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Back then, it was Barty Crouch who ordered Sirius to be sent straight to Azkaban. If responsibility were to be assigned, Barty Crouch, who handled the case, would bear the primary blame—an undeniable scapegoat.
Everyone must take responsibility for what they have done. It wasn't that Dumbledore was trying to harm Barty Crouch; it was simply the truth. If Barty Crouch had carefully examined the case and sorted through the details back then, there had been a chance to avoid this miscarriage of justice.
"Since the Minister at the time wasn't you, and the one responsible for handling the case wasn't you either, then can I assume that this wrongful case has nothing to do with you at all?" Eda continued, subtly guiding Fudge, while a faint glimmer of light appeared in her left hand beneath the desk.
The steps had already been built halfway—separating Fudge from the case and preventing any "dirty water" from being splashed onto him.
In truth, whether Fudge had anything to do with this case depended on how it was framed. Eda's version detached him from it. Of course, if someone insisted on using the case to target Fudge, it wouldn't be impossible—just rather far-fetched.
"To be honest, I don't see any downside for you, Minister, in overturning Sirius's case," Eda said. "Who handled the wrongful case? Barty Crouch. And who would be the one to right that wrong? The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
"Professor, I remember that when my classmates and I were discussing candidates for Minister back then, most people actually favored Barty Crouch," Eda said, turning to Dumbledore. "If it weren't for that useless son dragging him down, the one we'd be dealing with today would be Barty Crouch, right?"
This question didn't require Dumbledore to answer, because Eda was simply shifting the focus—quietly replacing Dumbledore, whom Fudge saw as his greatest threat, with Barty Crouch.
If it weren't for that disastrous son, would the position of Minister ever have gone to you, Cornelius Fudge? If that scandal hadn't happened, the one sitting in this chair today would be Minister Crouch—you'd still be tucked away in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes!
Dumbledore had never directly threatened Fudge's position. The real threats should have been Barty Crouch and Amelia Bones, shouldn't they? Come on, can't you tell friend from foe? With such a good opportunity to suppress your rivals, are you really going to let it slip away?
When dealing with others, the greatest taboo is speaking too deeply when the relationship is still shallow. What Eda said went far beyond that—it was practically speaking from the heart, laying everything bare, wholly considering the Minister's interests and helping him suppress his opposition.
Even Eda herself almost believed what she was saying. After being misled so many times, it was finally her turn to mislead someone else—and not just anyone, but the Minister of Magic. It felt unexpectedly satisfying.
Fudge's expression softened slightly as he began to consider the feasibility of Eda's words. He already knew everything she had said; he just hadn't thought about it this way. His attention had been fixed on Dumbledore, on how to suppress him, and he had overlooked the threats closer to him.
Fudge lifted his eyes to look at Dumbledore, but he couldn't read any emotion from his face—he couldn't even tell what Dumbledore was thinking. Faced with someone so unfathomable, was it really wise to fall out with him this early?
At this moment, the Minister needed someone on his side to offer advice, so Fudge glanced at Umbridge beside him—but it was clear she couldn't help.
Umbridge was good at currying favor with those above her and oppressing those below, and she excelled at discriminating against werewolves and Muggle-born students. But when it came to making real decisions, she was completely useless.
Eda said nothing more, not disturbing Fudge as he thought carefully. Her words had already taken effect, and with the added influence of the ring, Fudge's focus had shifted away from Dumbledore. There was no need to say anything further.
Say too much and you're bound to slip—right now, the timing was just right.
"Cornelius, I only wish to remain at Hogwarts, teaching and nurturing students," Dumbledore said. "If I had wanted to be Minister, I would have taken the position decades ago."
Another push to the fire—perfectly timed. It reminded Fudge that Dumbledore had no intention of becoming Minister, while also reminding him exactly who Dumbledore was.
In 1945, Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord Grindelwald, whose influence had swept across nearly all of Europe and America. If even Grindelwald was no match for Dumbledore, could Fudge and the Ministry of Magic possibly be stronger?
When Voldemort ran rampant in Britain, spreading his dark and terrifying rule across the British Isles, it was Dumbledore who stood up to resist him. Could Fudge and the Ministry be more formidable than Voldemort?
You can never wake someone who is pretending to sleep. And if they refuse to wake, then perhaps they should never wake at all. Eda had already laid everything bare and built the steps for Fudge—now all that remained was for him to bow his head and apologize in one smooth motion.
If even this wasn't enough, if Fudge still insisted on pretending, then there would be no need to say more. Dumbledore's words might not have been intended as threats, but to Fudge, they sounded like nothing but intimidation.
If Fudge continued to persist stubbornly, Dumbledore could simply choose other partners—Barty Crouch, for example, or Amelia Bones.
Or Dumbledore could bypass the Ministry entirely, directly reveal this miscarriage of justice to the public, and in the end establish a new Ministry—perhaps even taking Cornelius Fudge, helmetless, along for the ride to "go fishing."
At this thought, Fudge broke out in a cold sweat, his lost composure finally returning. With a hint of helplessness, he said, "I will convene a meeting as soon as possible, Albus."
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