For many people—like Minister for Magic Fudge, the Hogwarts staff, the young wizards, the Healers from St. Mungo's who came to help, and even for Ares—today had been a terrible day.
However, until what needed to be done was done, everyone had to grit their teeth and persevere.
Honestly, Ares didn't want to deal with the Minister for Magic.
When dealing with politicians, one's attitude and stance needed to be carefully measured. Being too close or too distant could bring endless trouble later.
Ares noticed that Hermione Granger in the next bed was looking at him with a strange expression.
This wasn't surprising. She had just seen him looking perfectly lively, but as soon as there was a knock on the door, he had nimbly burrowed under the covers, lying in bed as if he were on his last breath.
"Come in," Ares said.
"It's appalling... truly appalling... Not a single student died. It's a miracle... The Hogwarts Express losing control... I've never heard of such a thing... My goodness, you don't know how terrified I was when I heard the news, Ares. Merlin was watching over all of us—I mean, thank goodness you were on that damn train!"
Cornelius Fudge hadn't been in the Minister's seat for long, but the consensus in the British wizarding world was already that he was incompetent.
Whether he was capable or not, Ares wouldn't comment.
But in terms of the qualities of a politician, Cornelius Fudge was undoubtedly very qualified.
In the public ward, Fudge had acted like Dumbledore's follower.
But as soon as he entered the private ward, Fudge immediately left Dumbledore behind.
He didn't even glance at Hermione Granger, who had been mentally preparing herself for ages on how to respond to greetings from the Minister and the Headmaster. Instead, he strode to Ares's bedside, beaming and speaking with great joy.
It was as if he hadn't personally snapped Ares's wand, and the two were intimate old friends.
" Cough—thank you for your praise, Minister."
"Order of Merlin, First Class, if I can secure it for you!"
"Er, I wonder if Dumbledore has—"
"Oh, yes, Dumbledore mentioned it. He thought using gold to thank our savior would be about enough—"
Fudge said righteously.
"But I told him no, Ares. What would the public say about me, and what would they say about the Ministry, if I just used a bit of gold to brush this off?"
"Actually—"
"Oh, you look badly injured, Ares?"
"I'll inevitably have to stay in bed for a few days."
"Do you need to go to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Ares? I can arrange it for you immediately—Oh, of course, I'm not distrusting the skills of the Hogwarts Matron—it's just that St. Mungo's is more professional."
Fudge looked at Ares eagerly.
"Do you need it? A private ward, private nursing... none of this is a problem. Stay as long as you like!"
Standing silently to the side, reduced to a "supporting role," Dumbledore wanted to say something, but couldn't get a word in.
"Thank you very much, Minister, cough—"
Ares said.
"It's not worth wasting precious medical resources on me."
"See that, Dumbledore? That is true nobility!"
Fudge said approvingly, but there was a calculating look in his eyes as he gazed at Ares.
"Do you really not need it? Your contribution deserves the best treatment... The Ministry and I both need you to recover as soon as possible. We have tough challenges to face together!"
"Excuse me?"
"The interview, Ares!"
Fudge retracted most of his smile, revealing his true intentions.
"The exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet. We should do it together, shouldn't we? People will definitely want to hear you tell them personally how the train stopped, right? And if you could casually say a few fair words for the Ministry—cough, I mean, on behalf of the Ministry?"
It was expected.
"Oh, actually, stopping the train relied mainly on the emergency braking magic of the Hogwarts Express and the united efforts of the young wizards. I didn't do much—"
Ares gasped.
"How could I accept an exclusive interview with you, Minister? That would steal your thunder."
A trace of displeasure appeared on Fudge's chubby face. He clearly sensed that Ares didn't want to do PR for the Ministry.
He turned slightly, avoiding Dumbledore's gaze, then secretly winked at Ares.
"Just say a few words? In that case... cough, your First Class Order of Merlin would be much more secure."
"Cornelius!"
Dumbledore spoke up suddenly, his expression stern.
"The public has the right to know the truth, no matter how terrible it is."
"Easy for you to say, Dumbledore—"
Dumbledore's rebuke clearly embarrassed Fudge. He fiddled with his thumbs, which looked like two short carrots, and said unconvinced:
"But the problem is, who can clearly say what the truth is... Sigh, you know the public is easily incited!"
"At least, be honest and tell the public that the Ministry is conducting an in-depth investigation and ask them to remain calm—"
Dumbledore said.
"I warned you, Cornelius. Playing political games is a very dangerous thing."
"You said yourself you don't think it was the Hogwarts Express's fault, didn't you?"
In such a situation, Dumbledore's insistence would only make Fudge more stubborn.
"I just want Ares to tell the public your viewpoint... Oh, on this matter, I think people would rather listen to Ares's voice."
Fudge said, then ignored Dumbledore and looked kindly at Ares again.
"Will you do it, Ares? Just say a couple of sentences in front of the camera—"
Fudge coaxed.
"You can name your conditions, Ares. I mean, besides the Order of Merlin, First Class, if... er, you have any other requests?"
Dumbledore's aged face suddenly became grim. He stared silently at the back of Fudge's head.
But in the end, he said nothing more, only sighing silently in his heart, his eyes revealing helplessness.
" Cough, cough, requests—"
Ares took in both Dumbledore's change in demeanor and Fudge's cleverness. Moreover, he knew very well what they might have discussed behind the scenes.
In the silence—
Ares pursed his lips.
"If possible, I would like—er, could we serve dinner as soon as possible?"
Under Fudge's gaze, which was turning cold, Ares looked at Dumbledore, whose tension had relaxed, and smiled.
"I'm not complaining, Professor Dumbledore, but even if unfortunate things happened today, everyone still needs to eat, right?"
"Ah, thanks for reminding me, Ares—"
Dumbledore's silver beard shimmered in the moonlight.
"Indeed, what could be more important than filling one's stomach—But I forgot, generally speaking, the feast comes after the Sorting Ceremony—"
"In that case, I'm sure Minister Fudge would be willing to preside over the Sorting Ceremony personally."
Ares smiled and looked at Fudge.
"What?"
Fudge's jowls quivered, and he looked stunned.
"Me? Preside over the Sorting Ceremony?"
"It would be very meaningful, wouldn't it?"
Under Fudge's brightening gaze, Ares said softly.
"After such a catastrophic accident, for the Minister for Magic to personally preside over the already significant Sorting Ceremony would be like personally lifting them onto the extraordinary path of wizardry... telling the young wizards that the Ministry will seek justice for them—people will surely be moved by this!"