Chapter 122: Fudge's Wild Ambition
"The Quibbler! The Quibbler! Who gave him the nerve! Xenophilius Lovegood!" Fudge roared, slamming his fists on the desk in the Minister's office.
"Aurors! Where are the Aurors! Arrest this man for inciting public trouble and let him reflect on his actions in Azkaban!"
Rufus Scrimgeour, who already held a low opinion of Fudge, had no desire to deal with this. He had come to work for a perfectly normal day, only to be immediately summoned to the Minister's office to listen to Fudge's tirade for the better part of an hour.
Ultimately, this was all because Fudge was weak and incompetent—the very reason Scrimgeour despised him. If he had any real backbone, he would just issue the order. With an official Minister's Decree, Scrimgeour could lead the Aurors in and clean out Knockturn Alley in a single operation.
But Fudge would never do it. And why? Because the supposedly "freelance" Dark Wizards in Knockturn Alley were all backed by one pure-blood family or another. The Alley was, to put it plainly, a recruitment ground for their unsavory contacts. If it were cleaned out, it would become much harder for them—and anyone else looking for deniable assets—to find useful underworld figures. Not to mention the various gray-market trades and the flow of dark magical artifacts that would be disrupted. The buyers and sellers involved would suffer losses.
And if all those people suffered losses, they would undoubtedly come looking for Fudge. Did Fudge have the courage to take responsibility for that? Of course not. The current Minister was merely a "peacetime politician." Not because he brought peace, but because he was a man who could only function when peace was already handed to him.
Although Scrimgeour knew Fudge would never issue the order, he couldn't resist a bit of provocation. "With all due respect, Minister, if you issue the decree, the Auror Office will give its all to help you eradicate Knockturn Alley."
"Ah, well... you see... the thing is—"
As expected, Fudge's response was a series of incoherent noises.
"If there's nothing else, I'll be returning to the Auror Office on the second floor. There is a great deal of work to be done." As a traditional tough guy, Scrimgeour stood up, not wanting to witness another moment of Fudge's pathetic display. He pushed the door open and left, having no intention of listening to another long-winded excuse about "not that we won't issue the order, but we must issue it slowly—"
Fudge was still talking to himself. "We must act according to the specific situation, not blindly, but with precision, scientifically, and efficiently." He then muttered under his breath, as if afraid of being overheard, "Insolent! Not a shred of respect for the Minister of Magic!"
Rufus Scrimgeour's attitude had stung him deeply. And Dumbledore! Ever since capturing Voldemort, he hadn't bothered to communicate with the Ministry at all!
I am the Minister of Magic! Fudge fumed. The British wizarding world must revolve around me! Everything should be reported to me! Voldemort should be handed over to my authority! The credit should be mine!
The words that Dolores Umbridge had whispered to him in private once again echoed in his mind, stoking the fires of his ambition. Those in power deserve everything... with your title, everyone should obey you...
"She makes a great deal of sense," Fudge thought. "To have such insightful views... I should promote Dolores."
He sent for her. In this situation, he felt that only Dolores could understand a Minister's burdens. Only Dolores was truly loyal.
"Honorable Minister, you sent for me," a sickly sweet voice drifted in from the doorway. Following the voice was a middle-aged witch who bore a striking resemblance to a pink toad.
"Dolores! The Ministry is filled with traitors! There are no loyal subjects left! You are the only one I can turn to, my most trusted confidante!" Fudge lamented with a sorrowful expression.
"How can that be, Minister?" Dolores Umbridge cooed. "There are merely a few unruly individuals. The vast majority of the Ministry staff recognize your authority."
"The Ministry needs more loyal employees like you. Therefore, I have decided to promote you from Senior Undersecretary to Deputy Minister!" Fudge declared with a grand wave of his hand.
Umbridge immediately beamed with gratitude, thanking him profusely. It was a perfect picture of a ruler and his loyal subject.
"Now, on this current situation," Fudge said after the pleasantries, handing the copy of The Quibbler to Umbridge. "What are your thoughts?"
Umbridge scanned the article. "Oh, my. Honorable Minister, in my opinion, this newspaper is illegal. It does not possess the proper operating licenses. We must investigate it."
"Investigate? Explain in detail."
"First, we must create a pretext," she purred. "We'll say The Quibbler publishes subversive rhetoric, attempting to whitewash Dark Wizards and act as a mouthpiece for Voldemort. We'll have the Daily Prophet publish a few statements to that effect. Then, with public opinion on our side, we will issue an ordinance to legally raid The Quibbler's headquarters. Even if we can't secure a conviction, we can confiscate all their materials for three to five years—"
—and by then, The Quibbler would be completely finished. Fudge sighed in admiration. His truly loyal subordinate was so capable, unlike that troublemaker Rufus, who only knew how to push the Minister into making decisions instead of actually helping him! Look at how effective Umbridge's idea was! If you just sew the mouth shut, the disease is cured! If you just shut down the newspaper, the problem is solved!
Brilliant!
"Deputy Minister Umbridge, I'll leave you to arrange this matter," Fudge said, immensely pleased. "I will have the official appointment papers drawn up for you."
Hearing the title "Deputy Minister" made the pink toad-like woman tremble with delight. She thanked the Minister again and again, vowing that it was all due to his mentorship and that as Deputy Minister, her loyalty would be to him and him alone.
"There is one more, even more important matter on which I would like your opinion," Fudge said, his tone turning serious.
"Regarding Voldemort—"
Fudge's words trailed off, but his meaning was perfectly clear: Voldemort has been captured and is being held by Hogwarts. As the masters of the British wizarding world, shouldn't "we" be doing something about it?
Umbridge understood immediately. She had heard the rumors and had already prepared her response, just waiting for Fudge to ask. "Minister, you are the Minister of Magic! The fate of thousands of wizarding families in Britain rests upon your shoulders!" she declared.
"Dumbledore is merely the headmaster of a school! A school that falls under the jurisdiction of the Ministry!"
"When it comes to the welfare of the wizarding public, Dumbledore has no right to speak! In my opinion, he should have handed over the credit for defeating Grindelwald to the MACUSA President and the Minister of Magic at the time! Dumbledore is so thoughtless! What does a school headmaster need with such accolades?"
"And you, as the Minister for Magic, have nothing to fear from him. To possess power is to deserve everything. He may be the 'Greatest White Wizard,' his magic may be supreme, but with one word from the Minister, if you tell him to go east, he must go east! If you tell him to go west, he must go west! He must obey the Minister's command!"
Umbridge spoke with passionate, heartfelt conviction. This was a view she had come to hold deep in her soul during her time as Fudge's aide, surrounded by the flattery of countless Ministry employees and visitors. Power was superior to magic. Even if Dumbledore commanded an army of millions, he was still subordinate to Cornelius Fudge.
Any shred of rationality Fudge might have had left was completely swept away by the beautiful vision Umbridge had just painted—a world where the Minister's word was absolute law.
To become that kind of Minister of Magic... that is my life's ambition!
"So," he said, his voice trembling with excitement, "tell me. What's the plan?"
~~~
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