Fudge's expression grew solemn.
He had no way of knowing whether Dumbledore's claims were true, but he was convinced the Headmaster intended to use Sirius Black's case to undermine him and divert public attention.
He would never allow that to happen.
Alone in the Minister's office, Fudge muttered to himself.
Every time he mentioned Dumbledore's name, the hostility and resentment in his voice became unmistakable.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
A sharp rap sounded at the door.
Before Fudge could answer, a wizard hurriedly pushed it halfway open and blurted out in panic,
"Minister! Something terrible has happened! The Department of Mysteries has been ransacked! A huge number of its artifacts have disappeared!"
"...What... what did you say?!"
Fudge sprang to his feet in alarm.
The letter he had just read flashed through his mind.
For an instant, Dawn's face appeared before him.
Then, just as quickly, it transformed into Dumbledore's.
"Dumbledore! How utterly shameless! To pressure me into yielding, he's actually stolen half the Ministry's treasures!"
He declared the conclusion loudly.
Whether he genuinely believed no one could return after passing through the Veil...
Or whether he simply needed that lie to reassure himself...
Even he couldn't have said.
"Dumbledore? That's impossible!"
The messenger wizard stared at him in disbelief.
Fudge glared at the man for daring to question him.
With an impatient wave, he dismissed him.
Only after the door closed did he sink back into his chair, his expression constantly shifting.
Would Dumbledore steal?
Fudge believed he absolutely would.
He knew perfectly well that beneath Dumbledore's flawless reputation lay someone perfectly willing to resort to underhanded tactics whenever necessary.
But...
Stealing nearly everything from the Department of Mysteries?
The more Fudge thought about it... The less it resembled something Dumbledore would actually do.
Which meant...
Could the letter have been telling the truth after all?
Had Dawn Richter truly emerged from beyond the Veil and emptied the Department?
No.
Impossible.
Fudge quickly shook the thought away.
Then another explanation occurred to him.
Perhaps Dumbledore had discovered the theft first and simply assumed Dawn had escaped through the Veil.
Maybe the real thief was someone else entirely.
Fudge possessed an extraordinary ability to convince himself of whatever explanation best suited him.
A kinder description would call him an optimist.
Until death stood directly before him, he would always choose the interpretation most favorable to himself.
Before long, he had completely accepted his own reasoning.
In fact...
Concerned that the scandal might damage his public image, he decided not to publicize the robbery at all.
Casting aside every unpleasant thought, his mood improved immediately.
He returned to the idea he'd been considering earlier.
Viewed from an outside perspective, many of his decisions were undeniably foolish.
Yet when it came to preserving political power...
He possessed a certain instinct.
Given Hogwarts' current situation, he had already decided to use the previous term's disasters as justification for extending the Ministry's influence into the castle.
A Ministry-appointed School Safety Inspector. Now there was an excellent idea.
Fudge narrowed his eyes.
The inspiration delighted him.
He immediately pulled over a sheet of parchment and began writing enthusiastically.
Lines of fresh ink rapidly covered the page.
Then—
"Oh, dear..."
The office door opened again.
"I said no one enters without my permission! What is it this time?"
Without even looking up, Fudge barked the question.
But...
The apologetic explanation he expected never came.
His quill froze.
A sudden unease settled over him.
Slowly, he raised his head.
Waiting for him... Were a pair of crimson eyes filled with contempt and disgust.
For a heartbeat... Fudge stared blankly.
Then his face drained of all color. The quill slipped from his fingers.
"You... you're—"
A flash of light interrupted him.
Agony erupted from the depths of his soul. His words became a scream as he collapsed to the floor.
The Cruciatus Curse.
Even through the overwhelming pain, that realization flashed across his mind.
Then he remembered those crimson eyes.
Dawn Richter.
There was no mistake. He was alive.
Despite being thrown through the Veil... He had actually returned.
Cold sweat drenched Fudge's body.
Remembering the warning letter he'd thrown into the fireplace only moments earlier, regret surged through him.
It was immediately swallowed by overwhelming terror.
Why had Dawn come here?
Merely considering the answer made the Minister for Magic tremble uncontrollably.
He knew exactly what he had done.
Which meant... He also knew exactly what might happen now.
The pain gradually subsided. Yet his breathing only grew harsher. Even his screams became louder.
Someone...
Please...
Anyone...
Hear me...
Save me!
He cried silently inside his heart.
At that moment, he didn't even dare lift his head. He desperately wished everything before him was merely an illusion.
But...
From the corner of his eye...
He watched a foot calmly step across his wrist before taking the Minister's chair.
"Fudge."
The youthful voice sounded astonishingly cold.
"Fudge."
Dawn repeated the name without emotion.
"People who are truly suffering don't scream like that.
If you're hoping someone will hear you and come to your rescue... You can stop wasting your breath."
Looking down at the desperate hope hidden beneath the man's struggles, Dawn extinguished it mercilessly.
"The moment I entered... I sealed this office with magic. No sound leaves this room."
For an instant, the screams stopped.
Then they resumed.
Even louder than before.
As though Fudge truly believed pain alone could summon salvation.
Dawn rested his chin on one hand.
Watching the desperate performance, he suddenly found it absurdly amusing.
Rather than drawing his wand and fighting for his life... Fudge had placed every shred of hope in someone else.
Dawn shook his head.
He made no attempt to interrupt.
Instead, he casually picked up the parchment lying on the desk, reading while he waited for Fudge to finish shouting.
Twenty minutes passed.
The Minister's lungs proved remarkably resilient.
Only after his voice became completely hoarse did the screams finally trail off into hopeless silence.
"Finished?"
Without looking up, Dawn casually shook the parchment.
"Fudge... So this was your plan?"
He read aloud.
[Establish the position of School Safety Inspector at Hogwarts, directly appointed by the Ministry of Magic.]
[If opposition proves too strong, the Inspector need not interfere with ordinary school administration.]
[However, should any danger arise within Hogwarts, every professor—including the Headmaster—must comply with the Inspector's directives and prioritize student safety above all else.]
Dawn raised an eyebrow.
Partly out of simple mischief toward Dumbledore... He suddenly found the position strangely appealing.
"What an excellent idea."
An excellent idea? Fudge was completely lost.
Hearing praise instead of threats, he instinctively relaxed. He even looked up with a submissive smile.
But before he could say anything—The familiar agony struck again.
His eyes bulged.
Blood vessels burst across them.
"AAAAAH!"
He rolled across the floor in unbearable torment.
Pain.
Pure, unimaginable pain.vAs though knives were carving directly through his brain.
Drool soaked the front of his robes.
His fingers clawed at the floor until several fingernails split and tore away.
No sympathy came.
This time Dawn didn't even allow him a moment's rest. His wand rose again. The Cruciatus Curse struck repeatedly.
Wave after wave of unbearable torment engulfed Fudge's soul.
Thought itself became impossible.
Time lost all meaning.
It seemed to continue forever.
Only when Fudge had nearly forgotten his own identity did the pain finally recede.
He collapsed, gasping desperately.
Dawn lowered his wand.
"You should consider yourself fortunate, Fudge. If I didn't still have a use for you...
Everything you've done would be more than enough reason for me to reduce you to an empty shell before killing you."
His voice remained calm. Almost conversational.
Fudge stared at him with utter terror.
Drawing ragged breaths, he struggled to keep his mind from collapsing completely.
"What... What do you want me to do?"
"Simple."
Dawn snapped his fingers.
"I want you to erase every slander you've spread about me.
I want the name Dawn Richter to stand openly and proudly throughout the wizarding world."
He had made his decision.
No more hiding.
No more disguises.
No more constantly fearing discovery while pretending to be someone else.
He wasn't weak.
And if he wanted influence over collective consciousness... Building a reputation under his true identity was far more effective.
Fudge couldn't answer immediately.
His battered mind simply couldn't process the demand.
Only after a long silence—long enough for Dawn's patience to begin wearing thin—did he finally understand.
"I..."
"I understand."
His voice was weak.
Dawn assumed the man would finally agree.
Instead...
Fudge somehow found a way to surprise him.
"Lord... Richter...
A false identity... Would that be acceptable?
I could provide you with a flawless new identity. No one would ever suspect a thing—"
Before he could finish— Another flash of magic.
Pain exploded through him once more.
Pale as death, he writhed across the floor.
The next instant— His robes tightened around his neck. Invisible force hauled him upright.
His face was dragged until it hung directly before those crimson eyes.
For one brief moment...
Dawn honestly wanted to laugh. He even found himself feeling a strange sort of admiration.
Even now...
Even after everything...
Fudge was still bargaining. Still trying to preserve his own influence.
No wonder you're the Minister.
Unfortunately... Dawn hated that attitude.
If a false identity had been sufficient... He could have managed that himself. Why would he bother making this demand?
"Fudge...
You've spent too many years as a politician. Compromise has seeped into your bones.
You've forgotten something.
For wizards... Magic is power."
A cruel smile spread across Dawn's face.
"But that's all right. I'll remind you."
He rested the tip of his wand lightly against Fudge's cheek.
°Crucio°
A horrifying scream echoed through the office.
Held aloft by his own robes, Fudge convulsed violently. A foul smell spread beneath him.
Yet Dawn showed no intention of stopping.
He had already decided. He would utterly destroy the Minister's will.
Partly for revenge.
Partly to ensure perfect obedience.
Looking into those terrified, clouded eyes...
Remembering the kindly smile Fudge always wore in newspaper photographs...
Dawn casually picked up the feather quill lying on the desk.
The white feather flashed through the air.
Blood followed.
When Dawn's hand finally stopped moving... The quill had been driven deep into Fudge's left eye.
With a slight twist, the eye came free.
Only an empty socket remained.
The severed optic nerve twitched faintly. A muffled groan escaped Fudge's lips.
Half his vision disappeared instantly.
Oddly enough... Compared to the agony of the Cruciatus Curse... Losing an eye barely registered.
But when Dawn forced the quill into his mouth... Making him swallow his own eye... The terror inside him finally reached its limit.
"Why such a pitiful expression, Minister?"
Dawn's blood-spattered face looked chillingly calm.
"You weren't like this before."
Think back. When you trampled my name... When you destroyed my reputation...
When you earned admiration from the entire wizarding world by standing on my shoulders.
Remember how proud you looked."
Fudge couldn't answer.
His mouth was blocked. He could only shake his head frantically. Tears poured from his remaining eye.
Dawn simply watched. Without the slightest trace of pity.
He had none to spare for a man like this.
None whatsoever.
The screams echoed through the sealed office. Time lost meaning once again.
Eventually...
Silence returned.
By then... The figure hanging before the desk scarcely resembled a human being.
Blood covered him.
Bone showed through torn flesh.
Only a wizard's remarkable vitality kept him alive.
Dawn calmly returned to the Minister's chair.
Summoning clean water, he washed the blood from his hands before pouring a healing potion over Fudge's ruined body.
As the man slowly regained consciousness, Dawn delivered his final instruction.
"Listen carefully, Fudge. Don't bargain with me again.
I don't care what excuses or ideas you have. Once I give an order... I only care about results.
Use the same skill you once used to slander me.
Complete my command."
Slander...
Even through the haze clouding his battered mind... Fudge recognized the irony.
The young man standing before him had used Unforgivable Curses without hesitation.
Yet... He dared not argue.
All that remained inside him was fear.
Deep.
Absolute.
Bone-deep fear.
What kind of person was Dawn Richter?
Cruel? Lawless?
Before today, Fudge had never truly met him. Everything he believed had been abstract.
Secondhand impressions.
Now... He understood.
This was no ordinary Dark wizard. This was a Dark Lord in every sense of the word.
"I'll do it!"
Fudge finally broke.
His voice was weak. But utterly sincere. "Lord Richter... I swear I'll carry out your orders exactly."
"Good."
Looking into the terror and instinctive obedience filling Fudge's remaining eye...
Dawn knew there was no longer any disagreement between them.
"Now tell me. How long will it take to completely restore my reputation?"
"One year."
"My lord... If you give me one year... I swear I'll erase every accusation ever made against you."
Blood still dripped steadily from his body. Even so, Fudge answered immediately.
One year.
Dawn narrowed his eyes. He wasn't particularly satisfied.
Still...
He said nothing.
It was obvious this was probably the limit of Fudge's abilities. Perhaps even an optimistic estimate.
After a moment's thought, Dawn spoke again.
"Very well.
First... We're going to make an Unbreakable Vow.
After that... I want you to send letters to Malfoy and Greengrass. Tell them to come to the Ministry immediately."
When wizards thought about power...
Some thought of the Ministry of Magic. Others thought of the old pure-blood families.
One controlled institutions and government.
The other possessed wealth, influence, and generations of social authority.
If the Minister alone couldn't accomplish Dawn's objective... Then he'd simply recruit a few influential families to help.
Fudge had no objection.
Whether it meant dragging more unfortunate people into disaster... Or giving them the chance to save him...
Either outcome suited him perfectly.
Before long...
Two owls departed from the Minister's office carrying freshly written letters.
___________
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