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Professor Flitwick's experiment? It was really about trying to watch Dark Arts up close, but safely, inside the Distorted Illusion. Dark Arts, you could say, was one type of magic where wizards had poked deepest into the mind.
Too bad the experiment wasn't a big hit. Aiden figured Dumbledore and his old lover-turned-enemy probably did tons of those experiments in the Distorted Illusion way back when.
Meanwhile, ever since Aiden's paper got out, The Daily Prophet wouldn't stop attacking him. Both subtly and not-so-subtly.
One reporter, Rita Skeeter, even wrote five commentary pieces. The crazy stuff she made up? It really opened Aiden's eyes. This woman was something else.
Skeeter wrote that Dumbledore was losing his grip but wouldn't give up power. So, he picked Aiden as his mouthpiece to keep his political clout. A comeback attempt, she called it. She even told the Ministry of Magic to shut Dumbledore down.
Then, the big-shot masters from Aiden's seminar released a joint statement. Slap! Right in The Daily Prophet's face. Of course, that statement also got the whole Wizarding World buzzing.
"This Skeeter," Aiden grumbled. "Seriously wasted talent. She should be writing for The Quibbler."
"Rita Skeeter! How can she slander Dumbledore like that?" Ethan couldn't get it.
"Maybe she studied journalism too hard," Oliver quipped.
Aiden: ⚆_⚆ 'Wait, Muggles have internet now?'
"It's normal," Edmund Lestrange said, biting into some bread. Then, boom—he dropped a bomb. "They only make money by stirring things up. The Prophet's backers? Pure-blood families. And they've hated Dumbledore for ages."
He added, super casually, "Actually, my family owns a piece of it. Yours too, Aiden. The Prewetts."
"My family!!??" Aiden was stunned. "How do I not know this?"
"When the Prophet started, our families invested. Special contract. Profits go straight to our Gringotts vaults. Don't look at me like that," Edmund said, seeing Aiden's shock. "That's just wizard families. Everyone's got a finger in some pie. Only the Weasleys opted out. But they got power in the ministry instead." Edmund laid out the harsh truth like it was nothing.
"So, can I use my shareholder rights to shut that reporter up?" Aiden asked, a glint in his eye.
"Tough," Edmund said. "You need allies. The Prewett share isn't huge. Your family's main thing is alchemical products. The Borgin family tried to get into alchemy once. Obvious result: they got pushed into Knockturn Alley." Edmund kept spilling secrets.
"What about my family's businesses? Still running?" Aiden was curious.
"Of course. Contracts, managers. We don't usually need to do much." Edmund rolled his eyes, like, 'Duh, Aiden, how do you not know this?'
"Forget it," Aiden sighed. "I'll sort family business when I have time. Too early now."
His two roommates beside him? Their eyes were practically sparkling with Galleon signs. Probably plotting how to get some cash off these two rich kids.
At noon, Ministry of Magic folks showed up at Hogwarts.
Cornelius Fudge—bald, short, and fat—wore expensive, tailored robes that looked a bit tight. He got to be minister after Millicent Bagnold retired, mostly by making it seem Dumbledore backed him. Now, this ambitious guy was trying to ditch Dumbledore's influence.
Professor McGonagall met them. Her cold face and all-business vibe made Fudge feel awkward.
Fudge wiped sweat with a handkerchief. McGonagall led him to the Headmaster's office.
Inside, Aiden and Dumbledore were already waiting.
'Make 'em wait. Shows my authority. Good job, Cornelius,' Fudge thought smugly.
"Long time no see, Cornelius," Dumbledore said warmly. "And ministry folks, welcome. Sit, have some drinks I made."
Dumbledore, master Legilimens, already knew what they were thinking. He flicked his wand and conjured drinks. The easy power made the ministry people nervous.
And Aiden, the unknown psychologist in the room, did a quick mass mind-read. His pupils went vertical. Ready to intimidate.
"Long time no see, Dumbledore." Cold sweat on Fudge's face. He tried to look dignified.
"Indeed. Since you became minister, our 'friendship' has faded," Dumbledore said, a glint in his blue eyes. If Fudge knew more, he'd see it was magic.
"Ahem, busy, you know, ministry stuff. Oh, right, I'm here on official business!" Fudge quickly changed the subject. "Oh, this must be Aiden Prewett! Another fine member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"Hello, Minister Fudge. Pleasure to meet you." Aiden greeted him politely, also giving the slow-witted man a subtle mental nudge of respect.
Aiden's looks and skill, plus the respect, made Fudge like him more.
'Excellent kid. Most importantly, respects my authority,' Fudge thought.
"Oh~, no need for formality! We're here for the Order of Merlin assessment. After our professional review, your spell does work against Unforgivables. The ministry thanks the Prewett family for their contribution!"
'This idiot thinks I used old family magic? Seriously? Am I some rich kid showing off in his eyes?' Aiden rolled his eyes internally.
"Oh, thank you for the recognition, Minister. It's what I should do." Aiden bowed slightly.
"Good boy! Go on, be busy. I need to talk to Dumbledore." Fudge waved him off.
Aiden nodded and left.
"Dumbledore", Fudge accused as soon as Aiden was gone, "is that spell really his? Are you stealing from those families? Are you worthy of the Prewetts' sacrifice, using their son like this?"
Fudge saw Aiden as Dumbledore's puppet to grab power, one who brought his own magic. Power had blinded Fudge. He always saw Dumbledore as his biggest rival.
"Of course it's the boy's achievement. Don't you believe the masters? Besides, who's encroaching on family property—me, or the Ministry?" Dumbledore calmly tossed the question back.
Seeing them about to fight, Ministry staff jumped in. "Minister, official business!"
Fudge took the out. "Ahem, right. Given Aiden Prewett's outstanding contribution, the Ministry will nominate him for the Order of Merlin, Second Class."
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