Chapter 181. Cornelius Fudge
"Let's go to Hagrid's first," said Fudge.
So Dumbledore led Adrian Wesson and Fudge towards Hagrid's hut.
Fudge was a fellow who excelled at small talk.
Dusk was falling, and all along the way he kept up chatter about inconsequential things like the weather, but he never once brought up Hagrid.
Unexpectedly, though, he seemed extremely interested in Wesson.
"I can tell, Professor Wesson," he said, taking Wesson by the arm, his face wreathed in smiles. "Dumbledore thinks very highly of you—you must be quite exceptional—but what I don't understand is why I've never heard him mention you before?"
Wesson, impassive, drew his arm back. "I've been living abroad for a long time."
"Oh, what a pity," Fudge patted Wesson's shoulder. "But now that you're back, I'm sure you'll do very well in Britain. Have you considered working at the Ministry of Magic?"
"I'm very satisfied with my current job," Wesson replied with a shake of the head.
Fudge chuckled. "Ah, yes, yes. Hogwarts is a fine place—much better than the Ministry!"
Naturally, Wesson didn't think Fudge was actually inviting him to work at the Ministry.
After all, they were strangers to each other.
The sort of thing Fudge said was the sort you listened to and left at that—not something to take to heart.
Wesson glanced at Dumbledore and found the Headmaster looking rather grave, with no intention of joining the conversation.
At last, just as night fell, they reached the door of Hagrid's hut.
Dumbledore stepped forward and knocked.
"Comin', comin'!"
Hagrid's voice came from inside.
Wesson could clearly hear it trembling.
Obviously, Hagrid had already got wind of part of the situation from Dumbledore.
Soon, the door opened.
"Come in," Hagrid said woodenly.
Dumbledore went in first, with Wesson and Fudge following behind him.
Hagrid was not good at hiding his feelings; panic was written all over his face now. His big hands kept worrying the hem of his coat, and his eyes darted nervously between the three of them.
Wesson gave him a reassuring look, to no effect.
A look on its own cannot soothe a frightened heart.
"May we sit and talk?" said Fudge.
When Hagrid stood, one had to crane one's neck to speak to him, and Fudge wasn't quite used to it.
Once Hagrid had lowered himself into his newly finished great chair,
"Hagrid," Fudge went straight to the point, "the situation is dire, so I had to come—even though it's after hours. There have been several attacks at Hogwarts, and I've heard there are still two students in the hospital wing. Because of this, the Ministry has to take action."
"This has nothing to do with me," Hagrid said, his face a little pale, reciting as if from a textbook. "I didn't do anything. When the incidents happened, I was here the entire time. I had no chance to do any of those things. And even the Ministry of Magic can't take someone away without any evidence."
Wesson thought those words had probably been coached by someone.
They sounded a bit stiff.
Just then, Dumbledore spoke up as well.
"You should understand, Cornelius, that I have complete confidence in Hagrid," he said sternly.
Fudge seemed to feel the pressure from Dumbledore.
He sighed. "Albus, you know there's a reason for this. Hagrid had a record in his youth—that's a serious problem. And the Ministry has already been in contact with the Board of Governors. Taking Hagrid away is necessary."
"In fact—"
At that moment Wesson cut in. "We already know what the roaming monster is. It's not the same as the little pet Hagrid once kept."
Fudge froze for a second, then wiped his brow. "What is it? Have you caught it? Do you have solid evidence?"
Wesson shook his head. "We haven't caught it, but—" He took a vial of green liquid from his coat pocket.
"The students were attacked by a basilisk," Wesson explained. "I injured it earlier; this is the blood it left behind. You can have the composition of this blood tested first. I imagine the Ministry has people who specialise in this sort of thing."
Fudge stared at the vial in disbelief.
"If you'd done any investigation at all, you'd know," Wesson went on, "that what Hagrid kept in his youth absolutely wasn't a basilisk, but some other creature."
Fudge was silent for a while.
A moment later, he said, in a most unnatural tone, "Even so, that can't rule Hagrid out as a suspect. Who knows what dangerous things he's kept over the years."
Hagrid shot to his feet so suddenly that his chair nearly toppled over. "I swear I haven't. Apart from Aragog, I've never kept anything else."
Fudge, however, seemed not to care what Aragog was.
But that didn't matter.
"This is merely a precaution," he said, not looking at Hagrid at all, but addressing Dumbledore. "There's nothing I can do—there's tremendous pressure on me—I have to do something. Rest assured, if it turns out not to be Hagrid, he'll come back safe and sound. But for now, we have to take him away."
At this, Hagrid sank back into his chair and said, trembling, "Where will I be taken? Not Azkaban, will it?"
"If all goes well, you'll be back soon," Fudge still did not look at Hagrid.
Though he received no direct confirmation, Hagrid knew that, given how things stood, Azkaban was a nailed-on certainty.
He opened his mouth, at a loss for words.
"This is a mistake, Cornelius," Dumbledore fixed Fudge with a piercing look. "Taking Hagrid away will achieve nothing whatsoever."
Wesson could plainly feel the anger edging into Dumbledore's voice.
"I don't want to—"
Fudge had only just begun when a "beep beep" sounded from his person.
Flustered, he pulled a pocket watch from his coat and glanced at it.
"Oh, time's about up. I must be off. In a few days, the Ministry will come officially. I came this time purely in a personal capacity."
With that, Fudge hurriedly took his leave.
When the door had closed, Hagrid collapsed into his chair and covered his face with his rough, great hands.
"What am I going to do?" he said, his voice shaking. "Th—that's Azkaban…"
Wesson went round behind him and patted his shoulder lightly. "Don't be afraid. I'll give you something to help you deal with the Dementors. I daresay you're not a formal Azkaban inmate—they may not confiscate what you're carrying."
Hagrid raised his head; a flicker of hope shone in his bloodshot eyes. "Really?"
Wesson nodded. "Though I'll need about two days to make it."
A little of the tension in Hagrid's heart eased at once.
Like this story Leave a review ; it would really help me out a lot.
Want to Read Ahead in Advance?
Join my Patreon!
+75 Chapters
Support me in
Patreon.com/BestElysium