Fudge leaned back in his chair, hands folded neatly across his midsection. "You can begin immediately. There are correspondences to review, meetings to attend, and decisions where your discretion will be invaluable. I trust you understand the significance of this opportunity?"
"Yes, Minister," Percy replied smoothly, keeping his voice steady, though his pulse was picking up speed. "I understand completely and will devote myself fully." The words were hollow, even to him. But they had to be said, and said convincingly. The mask of obedience, ambition, and competence had to be flawless.
Fudge nodded in approval, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Good. Very good. I'm sure you'll find the work challenging, but rewarding. Now, there are a few things I'd like to go over with you—nothing too taxing, but you'll want to get a good grasp on the immediate tasks ahead."
As Fudge continued outlining the first tasks—reviewing documents, attending meetings, managing correspondence—Percy's mind wandered briefly to the corridors of the Ministry. He had already spent a few days in the building, but each time he walked its polished halls, he felt a growing sense of unease. Long, polished corridors stretched endlessly in every direction. The hum of the Ministry, of wizards and witches rushing to their duties, was always there—always the same, but now, each conversation, each casual remark, each passing glance could be a clue or a trap.