Chapter 167: Subduing Fudge
Ministry of Magic, Underground Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Tonks sat at her workstation, flipping through the materials issued by the Auror Command.
To celebrate her transfer from Azkaban, she used Disguise Magnus to change into a brand-new appearance, wearing a black Auror standard robe, with purple hair tied into a high ponytail, youthful and vibrant, and even sitting in the corner, she was the most eye-catching presence in the entire department.
The materials were the work arrangements for the new year.
This thing was hard to explain; the Department of Magical Law Enforcement originally didn’t have such things. It was Kingsley Shacklebolt who, after becoming assistant to the Muggle Prime Minister, discovered that the Muggle government regularly summarized past work reports and adjusted future work plans based on the reports, believing this system could improve efficiency and reduce redundant useless work, so he excitedly suggested it to Madam Bones.
With this suggestion, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement ended up with these inexplicable materials.
They made her head swell; Tonks felt like she was back at Hogwarts as a student, and these materials were Professor Binns’s lesson plan.
Moreover, it was exactly the day after the holiday when everyone returned to work; outside it was freezing with snow, the room’s fireplace was warm, she couldn’t muster any energy, yet she had to read this sleep-inducing stuff, feeling drowsy, almost collapsing onto her desk.
“Strengthen patrols in Knockturn Alley…”
Tonks struggled to finish one page, forcing open her sleepy eyes, and just as she was about to turn to the next page, a strong vibration suddenly came from the ceiling.
“Enemy attack!!”
The young female Auror jumped to her feet, instantly alert.
“Someone actually dares to attack the Ministry of Magic!?”
Tonks was both shocked and excited, immediately drawing her wand, ready to go out and fulfill her Auror duties. But before she could take a few steps, she heard a muffled roar.
“Cornelius Fudge, who do you think you are…”
Thanks to the Ministry of Magic’s excellent soundproofing, the Howler’s voice came through the floor sounding low and muffled, not so piercing, requiring focused listening to hear clearly.
“So it’s a Howler cursing the Minister. I thought it was a Dark Wizard attacking the Ministry.” Tonks felt instantly disappointed.
At that moment, Kingsley came out from the neighboring office, and almost simultaneously, Madam Bones pushed open her door, seemingly also startled by the noise.
The three exchanged glances; Kingsley and Madam Bones looked at the wand in Tonks’s hand and couldn’t help but fall silent.
Kingsley paused: “Nymphadora, go back to your work.”
“I told you, call me Tonks.”
Tonks muttered under her breath, silently returning to her seat, feeling somewhat helpless. The current work content was even worse than watching Dementors and prisoners in Azkaban.
Tonks lowered her head and continued flipping through the materials.
“Hm!?”
Tonks couldn’t help but widen her eyes. Had she seen this page before? Why did it feel so unfamiliar? Where had she just gotten to?
The wall-side grandfather clock kept ticking; for the rest of that morning, Tonks couldn’t finish the materials because continuous insults cursing the Minister kept coming from upstairs. Filtered through the floor, the insults were at a volume that was just right—not piercing, but perfectly audible.
Slang from various regions, greetings in different accents, and witty yet forceful analogies.
Tonks learned many obscure usages of words, broadening her horizons, amazed.
Until near lunchtime, the insults finally tapered off. It was said that the Minister’s Office had sent a letter demanding the Post Office stop delivering Howlers to the Ministry.
……
Lunchtime.
The Ministry of Magic halted all business operations, put up “On Break” signs, and staff gradually left. The Great Hall’s fireplaces finally died down, and each floor’s departments quieted.
Fudge deliberately delayed a bit before leaving the Minister’s Office, trying to use the time difference to avoid running into other staff.
“Eighth floor, Great Hall.”
Fudge’s ears were still uncomfortable, with a slight persistent buzzing, unable to clearly hear the cold female voice announcing the floor.
Exiting the elevator, Fudge noticed a few staff on lunch duty—this was unavoidable. He could only put on an expression as if nothing had happened and walk through the Great Hall with his usual demeanor.
Normally, a few staff would greet him, but today no one did. The staff tacitly turned their heads away, as if not noticing the obese Minister.
Fudge hurried past, his peripheral vision catching the staff sneaking glances at him, their faces showing complex emotions.
These indescribable looks were particularly piercing; Fudge inexplicably felt annoyed, seething inside.
“Levent, Dumbledore! You think I’ll yield?”
“Just you wait! I’ll make you see that I’m the Minister of the Ministry of Magic!”
……
The specific situation of the Department of Magical Transportation’s application submission was well-known to all wizards in Britain through the Daily Prophet’s disclosures and reports.
Especially Quidditch fans, student parents, and supporters of a certain Boy Who Lived, who wished the Floo Network could connect to Projection Mirrors immediately, to send the images they wanted straight into homes for repeated viewing at home.
Howlers were sent one after another, but the Ministry remained silent, and staff from relevant departments couldn’t disclose the situation.
Theo’s Fort, Oak Barrel pub.
Old Will was busy behind the bar. Soon, the copper bell by the shop door jingled, and a large group of people poured in, all his old friends.
Aida from Godric’s Hollow, Alfie from Tintagel, One-Eyed Jack from Upper Flagley—these tavern owners were familiar faces, along with some older Aurors from his youth, and retired staff from various departments.
These were basically old patrons; they downed a mouthful of Flame Whiskey, slammed their cups on the table, flames bursting from mouth and nose, their voices booming in ears.
“Did you see it? The newspaper’s follow-up reports!”
“Mrs. Ekko submitted several more applications, all rejected.”
“Safety hazards, immature technology, Muggle culture influence! Bah, all nonsense reasons.”
“Some Wizengamot members must have caught dragon pox from Fudge; they actually agree with him—bullshit!”
“…”
Old Will saw the tavern owners chiming in and smiled as he asked: “You old folks stirring things up is one thing, but you’re tavern owners—do you really support Professor Levent’s plan? If patrons watch Projection Mirrors at home, will your business still be this good?”
“This…”
Some tavern owners frowned tightly; they’d only thought of protecting the Magic Mirror Club and hadn’t considered the deeper influences.
“Think it over carefully, think it through.”
“Don’t just jump in on impulse; if it really succeeds and afterward you blame Professor Levent.”
Old Will’s words surprised them greatly. Was this still the hot-tempered old Auror? He seemed to have changed a lot after joining the Magic Mirror Club; he never would have said such things before.
Sitting at the bar front, drinking silently until only foam remained at the bottom of his cup, the former commentator Alfie spoke up:
“In the 13th century, goldsmith Bowman invented the Golden Snitch and perfected Quidditch match rules. He could have monopolized the business, and Quidditch might have been a fad that quickly faded, but he chose to publicize the craft, and Quidditch swept the world, becoming what it is today.”
Jack, owner of the White Ink Bar, nodded: “Everyone, we have two choices before us: rely on Projection Mirrors for fleeting wealth, or give up some Galleons to create history!”
The patrons in the room exchanged looks; the Whiskey flames seemed to burn into their pupils.
“I have a few old colleagues in the Department of International Magical Cooperation; they could initiate the application from their department!”
“It involves Quidditch; perhaps the Britain and Ireland Quidditch League Headquarters could step in.”
“For the Muggle culture issue, have the Muggle Problems Mediation Committee clarify it!”
The tavern’s atmosphere quickly heated up, with patrons offering ideas one after another.
“…”
A smile appeared on Old Will’s aged face.
……
Friday.
Tonks sat in the corner looking at materials, propped up with a folder to cover half her face, pretending diligently.
Kingsley walked over and stood behind her.
Tonks didn’t notice, immersed in her own world; what she held was actually a newspaper. Star Reporter Skeeter’s reports were far more interesting than her boss’s materials.
「Ministry of Magic bombarded by continuous Howlers; unidentified official flies into rage, orders Post Office to reform, owls protest…」
「Multiple departments jointly submit application; unidentified official staunchly opposes and rants in office, claiming Ministry won’t bow to outside opinion…」
「Multiple Quidditch team managers issue public statements: Projection Mirrors convenient for watching matches, post-match reviews, training corrections, very helpful for Quidditch events. Magic Mirror Club promoting Projection Mirrors merits comparison to goldsmith Bob publicizing Golden Snitch…Charlie Cannon Team player claims Ministry should erect statues for Levent and Monkstanley…」
「Madam Marchbanks gives interview, claims high-level officials obstruct her Wizengamot vote, despicable tactics, nauseating…」
“Haha…”
Tonks saw an exciting segment and recalled the vulgar slang she’d heard recently, thinking she’d learned something new.
“Interesting?”
A voice asked softly.
“Very!”
Tonks answered before realizing, slamming the folder on the desk: “I mean your materials are interesting, clear structure, tells us exactly what to do next?”
Kingsley nodded: “Then tell me, what is your next task?”
“Uh…” Tonks was stumped.
Kingsley just stared at her, applying boss pressure, then reminded after a moment: “There’s a meeting at three; officials from all departments must attend. Madam Bones wants you to prepare in advance.”
“Me prepare?” Tonks widened her eyes. “Shouldn’t that be Madam Bones and Mr. Scrimgeour?”
“You’re going as assistant to record the meeting content.”
“Oh, yes, sir…”
Tidying her desk and hiding the newspaper, Tonks took paper and pen to the meeting room.
Many officials were already in the meeting room, but Minister Fudge at the head was the most conspicuous.
Officials from other departments arrived and sat one after another; some had clearly read the recent newspaper reports and sneaked glances at Fudge. With so many covert looks piling up, it was hard to ignore.
Fudge’s nostrils twitched; he didn’t look pleased.
As Mrs. Ekko from the Department of Magical Transportation sat, the meeting room went quiet for a few seconds, all eyes on this director, watching her every move.
Fudge cleared his throat, ready to chair the meeting.
This was a regular Ministry meeting; each department had agenda items. The Minister’s Office had two plans: one to thoroughly quash the Projection Mirror matter here, and two to openly solicit opinions on the 《Anti-Werewolf Bill》.
Umbridge Dolores was currently just an office director, not even qualified to attend meetings. If all went smoothly, she would be promoted to Senior Deputy Minister.
Thinking of this witch who supported him soon becoming his powerful assistant controlling the Ministry, Fudge’s dreadful mood got some solace.
“Minister, this application needs open discussion.”
Mrs. Ekko spoke before he could, pulling out the repeatedly rejected application and stating firmly, “The previous rejection reasons are all invalid. Minister, perhaps you should look again.”
Fudge was furious, his fat face flushing red: “Observe meeting order! Director Ekko, now is the Minister’s Office time!”
Tonks nearly laughed out loud, silently turning to use Madam Bones to block her face.
“Sorry, Minister, I was a bit hasty.” Mrs. Ekko showed no expression. “But since it’s raised, let’s not waste time on order. Discuss the agenda quickly.”
“Minister, during this time I’ve gathered opinions from experts and suggestions from department heads. Your reasons are all invalid, mainly the following points…”
Mrs. Ekko calmly stated the document contents; mentioned department officials chimed in agreement, proving her right—even including two department heads, Crouch and Bones.
“…”
Fudge grew angrier and more fearful inside, trying to suppress the scene with authority: “Bones, Crouch, what do you mean? Do you know what you’re doing? Is the Ministry to bow to a foreign wizard!”
He gritted his teeth in rage: “This is betrayal of Merlin, betrayal of past Ministers!”
Mrs. Ekko said nothing, passing the application documents to the middle of the long table.
“In fact, it’s not betrayal; more like inheriting their will.”
Madam Bones adjusted her glasses and said softly, “Once they established the Ministry of Magic, created the Hogwarts Express, built St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, maintained The Leaky Cauldron… These works prove to us that the Secrecy Law isn’t about completely isolating wizards and Muggles.”
Crouch also spoke up: “Minister Fudge, when you worked in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, you were more open-minded than now.”
Fudge sneered, not wanting to respond.
Madam Bones picked up a quill, opened the documents to the last page, and passed it over: “This is the unanimous decision of all Ministry departments after discussion. If you insist on opposing, we can call for a Wizengamot resolution.”
Fudge’s face changed; the liver-red flush faded to pale.
Only now did he suddenly realize the newspaper news wasn’t isolated, nor were the Howlers all spontaneous from wizards. The Magic Mirror Club had prepared much for this, interlocking pieces, even winning over moderates like Bones and Crouch.
Fudge gripped the quill, laboriously signing his approval.
He gasped roughly twice, glaring viciously at them, and growled: “Next agenda: on the 《Anti-Werewolf Bill》 drafted by Director Umbridge!”
