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After I managed to "convince" the Headmaster that it would be better to leave the disturbing — yet enlightening — conversation about the graveyard events for another time, a silence fell over the group.
My parents, unwilling to remain near the mortal remains of the Death Eaters, decided that we should move away. They wanted to go somewhere calmer, far from all the chaos, blood, and the journalists hungry for information.
Thus, my family — along with everyone else in our large group — began preparing to leave the Quidditch pitch.
However, just as we were about to head back to the castle, I felt the emotions of someone nearby suddenly grow agitated.
That person was shaken, nervous, and frightened — emotions that mirrored almost everyone around us. But on top of that, he was also angry and deeply frustrated.
And those emotions were clearly directed at our group, as if we were the cause of them.
'Heh, I knew you wouldn't be able to stay quiet...' I thought, recognizing exactly whose emotions they were without even needing to look.
"Wait! You can't just leave like this!"
Fudge, who had been quiet in his corner all this time, finally shouted at us, making his presence known.
At his voice, we all stopped walking and turned toward him, our faces filled with curiosity and questioning looks — or in the case of my mom, Penny, and Andy, cold, scowling glares.
The moment all those gazes fell on him, and as he felt the fury radiating from the women of both families, Fudge instinctively stepped back, his cowardice once again showing through.
But then, in the very next instant, he seemed to find some sudden bravery from who knows where.
Placing his green hat on his head, he puffed out his chest with an air of authority and arrogance, glaring at us challengingly.
"You can't just show up, cause an uproar, and then leave as if everything is fine!" he spoke again, louder now, his tone firm and authoritarian, "I still want to know why the two of you disappeared for so long, and why you returned with the body of a fugitive and the head of one of my best employees!"
As he said this, his eyes locked onto Harry and me. He was frowning, and it was clear to anyone that he was deeply unsettled and irritated by the situation.
Harry, noticing Fudge's dissatisfaction, immediately grew angry.
He had interacted with this petty little man a few times before, and from the start he always felt that the Minister wasn't truly a good or kind person — he merely pretended to be, wanting everyone to see him in a favorable light.
And now, watching him act this way, the so-called Golden Boy mentally added him to his personal list of unpleasant, nasty people he should stay far away from.
'Why is he looking at us like we did something wrong? We're the victims here, damn it!' Harry cursed inwardly, clenching his fist.
Unlike him, I wasn't bothered at all by Fudge's attitude.
I already knew this useless Minister from the books and films, so I was well aware of just how opportunistic, greedy, and cowardly he really was.
In fact, I had been expecting — and even hoping — that he would act like this.
'This is exactly what I wanted,' I smiled inwardly, though outwardly my expression remained calm.
"Minister Fudge, I understand you want answers... We all do," Nick began, stepping between him and us.
"However, you must understand that they've just gone through an incredibly stressful and dangerous situation. The least we can do for them is let them rest a little before giving us an explanation."
Watching my adoptive grandfather address the Minister with such a calm and courteous tone, I was genuinely surprised.
'That's unexpected... Usually Nick treats him with cold indifference — and in some cases, even with outright contempt and anger.'
'And in this kind of delicate situation, I would've sworn the first thing out of his mouth would be telling Fudge to shut up, followed by a hex.' I thought, staring strangely at the alchemist.
But what I didn't know was that Nick was, in fact, holding back his urge to lash out at Fudge, and he was doing it for me.
He didn't want to cause a commotion — and even less did he want to show me his violent side, especially right after I had faced a life-or-death situation.
Another reason he chose to speak up was because he could clearly see how furious the women behind him were.
He was certain that if he hadn't stepped forward, they would have gone straight at that unpleasant wizard. And he was even more certain that Fudge would never have survived the wrath of those three overprotective women.
"Mr. Flamel, this is a matter that concerns the most prestigious school of our community and my Ministry of Magic," Fudge replied with a frown, "So please, don't try to stop me from getting answers to our questions." he crossed his arms, refusing to back down before the French wizard's gaze.
Nick, seeing that the man he regarded as nothing more than an ambitious sycophant hadn't backed down, blinked in surprise.
'Really? You had to grow a backbone right now?' he pursed his lips.
The six-hundred-year-old wizard then realized that, to try and persuade Fudge, he would unfortunately have to resort to more... aggressive methods.
And I, standing at his side, noticed the shift in Nick's posture and the way his magic grew more active and violent.
Realizing that Nick had given up on words and was about to "speak" through spells — which, frankly, had taken longer than I expected — I decided it was time to intervene.
So, I stepped forward, positioning myself in front of the group and facing the corrupt, cowardly little man.
"Minister, do you really want to know what happened in that graveyard?" I asked, my expression calm and unreadable.
"Yes, I do!" he answered, glaring at me sharply, as if he were giving an order.
"Alright then... since you insist," I nodded, and no one noticed the cunning glint that flashed in my eyes.
With that, I glanced subtly around us, noticing that the field was nearly full.
Almost the entire crowd — students, guests, and professors — who had once been up in the stands had, at some point, descended to the Quidditch pitch.
From the moment Harry and I had arrived, their eyes had never left us, completely curious and desperate to know what had happened.
Realizing this, I smiled coldly, which for some reason made Fudge uncomfortable, though he couldn't explain why.
And before he had the chance to say or do anything, I began to speak.
"The reason Harry, Fleur, and I disappeared after touching the cup was because a Death Eater who had infiltrated Hogwarts altered the destination of the portkey on it."
"He ambushed us in the maze and tricked us into taking the cup. And the moment we did, we were transported directly to a graveyard, where a trap had been set for us!" I said, making no effort to lower my voice.
I wanted everyone to hear what I was saying — especially the journalists, who would undoubtedly spread this as the hottest news of the night.
I knew that the more people heard the real events directly from my own mouth, the harder it would be for Fudge and the influential dark wizards to try to discredit me.
And hearing the whispers of the crowd, and the scratching sounds of quills against parchment, I nodded in satisfaction, realizing my plan was working.
Then, fixing the Minister with a bold look, I continued.
"The moment the three of us arrived at the graveyard, we noticed someone had set up a ward there to suppress our magic, which is why we couldn't escape quickly."
"However, we realized that the portkey in the cup was still active in some way, and knowing we were in grave danger, Harry and I decided to send Fleur back here while we stayed behind to cover her, hoping she could reach here safely and send help for us."
"And then, right after Fleur was sent away, he appeared and attacked us..." I pointed to the Pettigrew's dead body on the ground, drawing every gaze to it.
"Peter Pettigrew! A Death Eater accused of betraying the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and of cruelly murdering several Muggles!"
"A dark wizard who, until tonight, was considered a fugitive from the Ministry!"
End.
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