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A piece of news took the front page of the Daily Prophet:
Peter Pettigrew had escaped from prison.
In less than half a day, the newspapers sold out.
The wizarding world's doubts about Azkaban's security reached a peak. At the same time, the Ministry of Magic, which had only just recovered some reputation through the Sirius Black case, once again became the target of public anger.
Howler complaints piled up in the Minister's office again.
"Bastards! What are you useless lot doing? A living man that size, without even a wand, and you still let him run?"
Fudge flew into a rage in his office. His furious roar could almost be heard downstairs. The Ministry official responsible for Azkaban trembled before him.
Fudge was proving, once again, that no amount of polish could turn him into a capable Minister.
Sirius had escaped from Azkaban under the Dementors' noses not long ago, yet the Minister had still allowed his subordinates to throw Peter into Azkaban and leave him to the Dementors.
He had poured all his energy into putting on a show. The Prophet had run seven or eight pieces in a row about the wise and mighty Minister Fudge.
His personal vanity had been satisfied.
But the moment Peter escaped, all of that progress vanished.
"Quick, quick. Take me to Mr. Dursley!"
After venting fiercely, Fudge waved his useless subordinates away and shouted at his new secretary. The previous secretary had been dismissed for being too foolish, specifically for entering the office left foot first. This new one was clearly much more capable.
Less than two minutes after the order was given, the secretary found Dudley's location and arranged the itinerary.
He accompanied the Minister there at once.
In the past, the Minister might have consulted Dumbledore or other pure-blood wizards.
Now?
Dumbledore?
Pure-blood wizards?
He trusted only Dursley.
In this situation, only Mr. Dursley could save him.
When Fudge and his entourage rushed to Number Four, Privet Drive, Dudley was enjoying a rare holiday with his family. They were holding a barbecue in the garden.
"Mr. Dursley."
Fudge kept wiping sweat from his forehead as he called anxiously.
Dudley signaled to Harry and Hermione with his eyes, then walked toward the Minister alone.
For a moment, Fudge thought he saw Snape among the people in the garden, but he had no time to think about it. He only wanted Dudley to give him a solution.
"This is about Peter, isn't it, Mr. Fudge?"
The news of Peter's escape was enormous. Almost every wizard knew about it.
Dudley spoke slowly and snapped his fingers. Behind Fudge, a chair woven from vines rose from the ground.
"Sit down and explain it slowly. Try this."
He handed Fudge an old-fashioned glass packed with ice and half-filled with amber liquor.
"Cough, cough."
Fudge thought it was some kind of drink and took a large gulp. He immediately choked and coughed again and again.
Compared with the butterbeer so popular in the wizarding world, this drink was clearly far stronger.
Dudley shook his head slightly, picked up an identical glass, and took a small sip. The rich aroma unique to Scotch whisky lingered around his lips and teeth.
"I do not want my family disturbed, Minister."
"The Ministry has been moving a little too actively lately."
Dudley's words seemed unrelated, but Fudge's heart tightened.
'He knows?'
After seeing Dudley's eyes, Fudge became certain.
'He definitely knows.'
"Please rest assured. They are only Squibs. They will not cause any trouble for you or your family. We arranged this only to better protect... Harry. Isn't Harry Potter an important savior?"
Many of the residents near Privet Drive had moved away, and many Squibs had been placed there in their stead.
In other words, aside from the Grangers and the Dursleys, every household on the street was now occupied by Squibs.
This had been arranged by the Ministry.
More accurately, by Fudge.
It was not hard to understand. Precisely because Fudge trusted Dudley, the Minister wanted to control him completely.
"Thank you for your concern."
Dudley only nodded and did not dwell on the matter.
"Minister Fudge, this may not be a bad thing."
Fudge froze and looked at him suspiciously.
Peter escaping from prison was a good thing?
'Are you trying to fool me? I may not have studied much, but I am still a proper Hogwarts graduate.'
Dudley was not surprised by Fudge's expression.
"Think about it. You are the Minister for Magic."
"Your time is extremely valuable. You cannot personally handle every matter. Something like guarding the criminal Peter should have been the responsibility of other officials."
Fudge nodded rapidly.
That made sense.
He was the Minister for Magic. How could he have time to manage such small matters?
"So this is not your problem. It is their incompetence. You must be clear on that point."
In other words, shift the blame.
Or, to put it plainly, find someone to take responsibility.
Of course, shifting blame alone was not enough.
"You also need to apologize to the wizarding public proactively."
Blame-shifting plus a bow and apology.
Put on a show and create the image of a responsible leader.
"Excellent, excellent, excellent!"
After listening to Dudley's detailed explanation, Fudge praised him repeatedly.
Why had he not thought of that himself?
In only a few sentences, Dudley had resolved his greatest crisis. Fudge's evaluation of him rose another level.
Such outstanding talent had to be firmly held in his hands.
Dudley's plan did not end there.
"Minister Fudge, if I remember correctly, Azkaban's work falls under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, correct?"
"Yes." Fudge nodded.
"As its former Head, Mr. Barty Crouch senior has always had a poor relationship with you. I remember he was once a strong competitor for the position of Minister for Magic."
"Correct."
Fudge nodded again, then paused and asked tentatively, "You mean..."
"I believe Peter's escape from Azkaban is something he cannot avoid responsibility for."
"And if I remember correctly, his son, Barty Crouch junior, was a Death Eater."
"Correct..."
"A man who could raise a Death Eater as a son must have problems in his own thinking as well."
Dudley showed two rows of unnervingly white teeth and looked at Fudge leisurely.
"Do you not think some high-ranking officials in the Ministry have held their positions for too long? Some have even been there longer than you, the wise and mighty Minister for Magic."
"That is not good. Very bad. If they smile to your face and undermine you behind your back, even your orders cannot be carried out effectively."
Dudley's words stirred many unpleasant memories in Fudge.
In name, he was the Minister for Magic, the man at the peak of power in Britain.
In reality, many officials in the Ministry said one thing to his face and did another behind his back.
"Minister Fudge, what do you think?"
"Mr. Dursley, I think you are right!"
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