Reluctantly, Harry was pushed back to his bed, but his gaze was fixed on the newspaper in his hand.
"Hey, actually, you look pretty good?"
Hermione flicked a chocolate bean into her mouth as if playing with a coin. She had closed the big tome full of obscure magic and turned to glance at Cedric, who was wrapped like half a dumpling on another bed, curiously remarked.
"Yeah, but Ms. Pomfrey obviously doesn't think so—"
Cedric sighed, supported by two or three pillows to keep him in a half-lying position — he had been the most seriously injured of the champions, having been dizzy from being at the apex of the Devil's Snares and then colliding with the desert floor — second only to Daniel, who was hit by Dark Arts.
But now, it seems the most injured person has changed.
"...He's like a soft-clawed land shrimp that's basked in sand for ten days and then stomped by a troll."
Staring at Krum's battered photo in the newspaper for a few moments, Cedric offered a sharp critique, "And what's written below?" He craned his neck, straining to see the paper Harry held, "Damn, why don't those newspaper printers make the letters bigger? Afraid their bosses will dock their pay?"
"Madam Pomfrey said, that's the side-effects of those healing magic potions, now Cedric might be a bit... cynical?"
Cho Chang sitting on Cedric's bedside explained to everyone.
Everyone nodded, Ron took Harry's newspaper and started reading it to Cedric, "…they say Krum seems a bit off his rocker, muttering about 'hunting treasure,' 'tournament,' 'champion,' and the like..."
"Mad?"
Cedric coughed twice, his voice slightly hoarse, "Indeed, what we saw back then was enough to give a fire dragon nightmares." He paused, and Fleur picked up the conversation. Her complexion was pale, but her eyes had regained their usual pride, "That voice of Helbo... when it crawls into your mind, even a rock would go mad."
"...Not to mention, he was trapped in the desert, wandering for ten days."
Harry followed up, while Daniel Stephens, placed in the bed farthest inside, nodded vigorously, wrapped even more tightly than Cedric, having been buried in the sand for half an hour. More importantly, his mouth still hadn't returned to normal.
"Step aside, your visitation time is about up — allow the patients sufficient rest!"
Madam Pomfrey passed through the crowd holding a bowl emitting eerie green smoke, sat by Daniel's bedside, and carefully applied the potion onto his lips, where there was only smooth skin without a trace of a seam, as if the boy was born without a mouth, "...stubborn remnants of dark arts."
The school nurse's clear murmur spread through the room, making everyone's expressions somewhat gloomy.
Following that, everyone except the patients was shooed out by Madam Pomfrey, and even Harry's Prophet Daily was taken away by her. Now, even though it was morning, the hospital wing's room seemed slightly dim, and Harry lay against his bed, still drowsy despite having just awoken —
Before closing his eyes, the boy suddenly thought about what the senior being targeted by reporters and public opinion was doing now?
...
Ah, he's directing others to attack himself —
Gazing at the article Rita Skeeter delivered, William frowned slightly with dissatisfaction as he stepped out of the Ministry of Magic elevator, "What kind of garbage is this — I want you to criticize me! Criticize harshly, at worst be sarcastic for half an article at least? What's this about being afraid of my revenge? Where's your professional integrity?"
Well, professional integrity or not, one has to survive, right?
Rita sighed with a look of helplessness, not daring to speak just moments ago, she could only nod vigorously.
"Alright, go back and revise it, remember, I want you to attack me!"
William shook his head, sent the woman away, and then proceeded down the dark corridor until he reached a door. Hesitating for a moment, he pushed it open and then covered his eyes, withdrawing immediately. Two minutes later, a woman in a light green robe ran out, covering her face, quickly vanishing around the hallway corner —
"You, why are you here?"
Behind William, Fudge was clumsily arranging his clothing, coughing vigorously twice before reopening the office door — then, upon seeing William, his expression changed, followed by an ingratiating look, whispering.
He asked as he laughed, ushering William into the office.
The relationship between the two was clearly not as tense as described by the Prophet Daily — but tense nonetheless, this was Fudge. Cold sweat continuously flowed from his forehead as he watched William's back walk into the office, his smile turning somewhat bitter.
"You seem, quite leisurely —"
With a charm, William cleaned Fudge's office before entering, standing in the middle without any intention of sitting on the couch.
"Sir, you're joking, I just..."
Fudge swallowed hard, instinctively trying to explain.
"No need, I'm not interested in your private life — talk about the recent situation."
William raised his hand to stop the man from attempting to argue, just having a scantily clad woman stumble into the Minister of Magic's office didn't surprise him much —
"Alright, I..."
Fudge shook his mind, hurriedly moving behind his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a bunch of red howlers, although these howlers had already calmed down, evidently having vented their emotions, "These are from various school principals and foreign Ministry of Magic ministers —"
Speaking, Fudge looked resigned, "Sir, I must say — Headmaster Dumbledore has quite a strong opinion about me lately. If I continue this way with you, he might quickly make me leave this position... how about it? Do you think?"
"Don't worry, he won't, the old man doesn't want your job."
William went forward, shaking his head, and casually pulled out a normal-looking letter from the envelopes. Upon opening it, the contents were just as he predicted, the president of the United States Magical Congress in the letter scolded Fudge for poor personnel management — obviously referring to William himself.
"Looks like the public opinion war is going well —" Seeing everyone targeting him, William nodded contentedly.
"Indeed, sir, so do you think it's time for the next step —"
"...Yes, let's set it for this weekend."
...
"Is Cornelius Fudge going to sue you?"
In the evening, with Goblin diplomatic issues to tackle, Dumbledore visited William again. The old man looked very serious, his weighted gaze pressing on William's shoulders — as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore naturally received word immediately —
"— and then you didn't," he paused, incredulity lacing his voice, "go smash his head?"
"?" William blinked, "Wait, Old Bee, what kind of image do you have of me?"