Chapter 133: A Little Surprise for Fudge
"Initially, we never even thought of approaching Mr. Weasley," Ralvin explained. "But as it happened, he overheard one of our conversations."
Ralvin's original intention had been to avoid involving the middle-aged and elderly wizards, whom he considered to have rigid ways of thinking. Furthermore, Arthur Weasley had clearly been on the winning side of the last war, yet his position at the Ministry was still quite low. Ralvin had assumed that Mr. Weasley was disconnected from the mainstream of the wizarding world and hadn't planned on notifying the old Dumbledore loyalist.
He never expected that Arthur Weasley, after accidentally learning of their plans, would immediately seek him out, question their intentions, and tell them that children shouldn't be meddling in such serious affairs. Faced with this, Ralvin and his group were at their wits' end. Finally, they just claimed that Dumbledore was behind the whole thing.
And so, Arthur went directly to Hogwarts, using the visit to check on Ron as a pretext to question Dumbledore. Luckily, Dumbledore chose to endorse their actions. Otherwise, their plan would have collapsed before it even began.
"Although I get along fine with Percy, George, and Fred, I don't really know Arthur. It seems the Headmaster trusts him a great deal, to tell him about my prophecy and have him relay it to you," Ryan said, surprised by Mr. Weasley's standing in the Headmaster's eyes. As far as he knew, the only adult wizards at Hogwarts who had that level of Dumbledore's trust were the four Heads of House.
But if he was such a staunch supporter, shouldn't he have received a high-ranking position at the Ministry after the war? Could it be that Dumbledore was so wary of Ministry posts that he prevented his own followers from seeking them?
Besides, the Weasleys were a pure-blood family, and a famously populous one at that. They were a resource that would make other, dwindling pure-blood families lose sleep at night. That sleeplessness would lead to desperate measures—brewing goji berry tea or even consuming local specialties like powdered mummy dust in an effort to produce more little wizards. The result was often the same: they'd reach middle age with only a single child. Even a family like the Selwyns only had a handful of adult wizards when you combined their main and branch lines. After two of them had been arrested, they were left with just a few stragglers, which had made Ryan's raid on their manor rather unsatisfying.
That's why Ryan didn't understand. Here was a subordinate who was both capable and loyal—his capability being the seemingly endless production of children, a unique talent in the sparsely populated wizarding world! And all his children were wizards! If Ryan were in charge, he wouldn't mind pulling a few strings to get the entire Weasley family jobs in the Ministry, provided it didn't involve critical positions.
"I just wonder if studying the Weasley family members to figure out how to promote procreation in the wizarding world would violate any humanitarian principles..." Ryan muttered under his breath.
"What did you say?" Ralvin asked, not having heard clearly.
"Nothing, nothing," Ryan said quickly. He certainly wasn't going to admit he wanted to offer the Weasleys a job that involved being the subjects of profound research critical to the survival of the wizarding world.
He looked out the window. The plaza was teeming with a bustling crowd. Among them, a thin-faced woman with curious eyes walked arm-in-arm with a more buxom lady. The pairing felt slightly off to Ryan, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. It was only when he turned and saw the same curious look in his seniors' eyes—a curiosity about why such a vast number of Muggles existed in one place—that he realized the expression was identical. The thin woman was a witch.
At the Ministry of Magic.
Fudge arrived fashionably late. As the Minister, he naturally didn't need to adhere to a strict schedule. He only needed to constantly emphasize discipline and punctuality at large meetings, demanding that everyone else arrive at 8 a.m. and leave at 12 p.m. As long as he could brandish his authority, that was all that mattered. To his pride, he had many loyal subordinates who ensured everyone else followed his rules. Sometimes, he felt he could responsibly claim to past Ministers: "The Ministry I lead is the most punctual Ministry of all!"
"Good morning, Minister!" someone greeted him, their expression fawning, their tone effusive.
Fudge nodded smugly and grunted in acknowledgment.
The moment Fudge was out of earshot, the employee's face changed. "What a piece of work. Comes in late and leaves early every day, embezzles public funds, and then has the nerve to lecture us about being diligent. Pfft!"
Fudge, already far down the hall, had no idea what was being said behind his back, nor did he suspect that practically the entire Ministry despised him. Right now, he only felt rage surging through him.
"Who? Who did this? What, you dare to do it but not admit it?"
"If you're any kind of hero, then step forward!"
Not yet realizing just how badly things were about to escalate, Fudge pointed a trembling finger at the banners hanging on the door of his office.
FUDGE THE INCOMPETENT VILLAIN IS UNWORTHY OF HIS POSITION
THE MINISTER IS GREEDY, CORRUPT, AND AN AUTHORITARIAN TYRANT
"No one's stepping up, are they!" Fudge roared, trying to tear the two banners down with his own hands. He pulled. Nothing happened. He pulled again. Still no reaction. He pulled with all his might, gritting his teeth, and broke a nail.
"Help!" Fudge yelped in pain. "Someone get the Aurors! Get this stuff down from here!"
From out of the crowd, Umbridge scurried forward to support her dear Minister. She pointed her finger at the onlookers. "What are you all staring at! Go on, do it! That's an order from the Minister! Are you planning a rebellion?!" Her heart was filled with shock, confusion, and ninety percent pure fury. Someone dared to pull a prank on the Minister of Magic! As a result, her tone was exceedingly rude.
But not a single one of the younger employees paid her any mind. Some of the older, middle-aged wizards considered stepping forward to show their loyalty, hoping Fudge might remember them for a promotion or a raise. But sensing the strange atmosphere, these wily old-timers instinctively paused, deciding to see which way the wind was blowing before they acted.
"Rebellion! This is a rebellion!" Fudge screamed, still high on the grand vision Umbridge had painted for him, a vision where everything in the British wizarding world bent to his will. The feeling had sent him soaring for the past two days. He had even started to feel that Dumbledore wasn't so scary after all—just a hundred-year-old man, past his prime, a paper tiger. And yet, here in the Ministry, his supposed seat of absolute power, he was being publicly humiliated!
"Where is Scrimgeour! Tell him to dispatch the Aurors! And all of you, disperse!" Fudge roared, waving his hands as if shooing away kittens as he stormed toward his office.
He threw the door open.
A mountain of letters, piled high, cascaded out like an avalanche of snow, burying him completely.
"WHO DID THIS?!"
His furious roar, muffled by layers upon layers of paper, sounded weak and powerless—just like the man buried beneath it all.
~~~
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