Chapter 134: Fudge-mort?
It was a pity that the British wizarding world didn't have the custom of burning paper money for the dead. Otherwise, the flurry of letters filling the air could have been seen as a picturesque scene of yellow ash scattering in the wind.
Fudge, however, was in no mood for picturesque scenery. The grim expression on his face was uglier than that of a worker who had just been told they wouldn't be paid for a month of consecutive overtime. His lips trembled with rage.
"Someone, help! Quickly!" Umbridge cried, rushing to the doorway to call for aid. Seeing Fudge's twitching state and the pallor of his face, she seriously suspected he might have a stroke in the next second.
Out in the corridor, the crowd—both Ministry employees and wizards there on business—had each picked up a letter, curious to see what was written inside.
"It's strange, isn't it? How could Minister Fudge get so angry before he even read the contents?"
"What else could it be? A guilty conscience. He's the one who did all those things, so of course, he knows how people are going to curse him for it."
"Say no more. Just look at those two banners, they're clearly fixed with magic. That proves Fudge must have done something to anger both heaven and the people. And think about those decrees he issued... hehe."
The entire British wizarding world could be seen as one big Hogwarts. Every wizard had once been a young student, and every young student had to attend the school. Therefore, nearly everyone present, whether a Ministry employee or a visitor, was deeply dissatisfied with Fudge's decrees. Compared to the Ministry, which represented the toil of adult life, they felt a much deeper nostalgia for Hogwarts, which symbolized a carefree childhood.
And what's more, under the Ministry's brilliant management, many wizards were still struggling on the poverty line! The British wizarding community only had a few thousand people! The Ministry couldn't even manage this simple task! It only proved that Fudge was incompetent, derelict in his duties, corrupt, and a thief who stole from what he was meant to guard.
Someone tore open a letter and read it out in a booming voice:
"Honorable Minister Cornelius Fudge: I hope this letter finds you unwell. In light of our time as colleagues, I write these words with what I will call a passable level of respect and loyalty. Your contributions to the Ministry over the past two years have been acknowledged by no one. Your insistence on maintaining the superficial stability of the wizarding world has long been the subject of our after-dinner conversations."
"I am deeply aware that your addiction, loyalty, love, and greed for power are second to none. But it is with great regret that I must state that the Ministry of Magic needs a real Minister, not a parasite醉心於權利的蠹蟲 obsessed with authority."
"Especially after you issued a series of irrational decrees that will destroy the very stability you claim to value, everyone's disgust for you has reached its peak."
"At this critical juncture, for the sake of the wizarding world, I urge you to resign from your position and allow someone more competent to take your place. This suggestion is not only a challenge to your personal abilities but is made with the greater good in mind. I hope you will prioritize the greater good."
"—A Ministry Employee with a Conscience."
Because the person was reading so loudly, the entire corridor could hear every word, including the selectively deaf Cornelius Fudge.
At that, others began opening their own letters and, after a quick scan, reading them in full. A leader had emerged, and soon everyone was tearing open the snowflake-like deluge of correspondence. The senders were Ministry employees, ordinary wizards from all walks of life, and even several pure-blood families who had signed their names!
This meant that even Fudge's most powerful backers had abandoned him.
The series of blows left the office in stunned silence. Even the heavy, ragged breathing had gradually stopped. The only sound in the corridor was the chorus of voices reading the letters. Everyone else was listening with rapt attention, unwilling to make a sound. In this environment, not even Fudge could shamelessly claim the wind was too loud to hear.
"Help! Is anyone there! The Minister has fainted!" Umbridge's shriek broke the silence.
"I believe Mr. Fudge needs to be clear-headed to command at this time," a new voice said. Rufus Scrimgeour emerged from the back of the crowd. No one knew when he had arrived. His tone was forceful, his eyes flashing with ambition and an unquenchable passion. "At such a critical time, we need the Minister to lead the wizarding world to new heights. He cannot fall now."
"Allow me to wake the Minister!" Scrimgeour strode into the office. A moment later, the sound of splashing water was heard, followed by two sharp slaps.
Amidst a series of strange noises, someone seemed to slowly regain consciousness.
Fudge's voice rang out. "You're just in time, Scrimgeour! Quickly, get your people to investigate this, thoroughly! Have Deputy Minister Umbridge work with you and arrest everyone who wrote these letters!"
"I'm sorry, Minister, but I cannot do that."
"What do you mean you cannot? You're the Head of the Auror Office!"
"The fact is, Minister, some of my own Aurors are among the letter-writers," Rufus Scrimgeour explained, presenting his dilemma. He couldn't very well order his own men to arrest themselves.
Fudge bellowed, "You can deal with your internal problems later! Go and arrest the others first, including the other Ministry employees and the wizards outside the Ministry!"
"I'm sorry, Minister, but I cannot do that," Scrimgeour repeated.
Fudge was seething, his eyes bulging like brass bells as he stared at Scrimgeour. His expression was a mixture of fury and confusion, demanding an explanation.
"It's like this, Minister," Scrimgeour said calmly. "There has never been any law in the wizarding world stating that expressing dissatisfaction with the Minister of Magic is a crime punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban. Forget Azkaban, even dispatching Aurors to make arrests for something like this would be against regulations."
"Since the founding of the Ministry, the only period during which the Ministry could arrest wizards for expressing their opinions was when You-Know-Who was at large. So, I must confess, I do not understand what you are implying, Minister."
Scrimgeour's tone made it clear: Nobody in the entire Ministry knows Auror regulations better than I do. What I say, goes.
His internal thought, however, was: And you, old Fudge, are actually trying to emulate You-Know-Who, ignoring the law to establish your own tyranny? This is a gift from Merlin himself! Please, say a few more words like that, and the Minister's office will be mine!
"Oh, heavens! You-Know-Who! Me?" Fudge began to sputter, waving his hands about in a series of meaningless, subconscious gestures.
"That is a very serious accusation, Rufus! What are you trying to say?!" Umbridge shrieked, snapping back to reality. She realized that with a few more sentences, "Fudge-mort" would soon be sitting at the same table as Voldemort.
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