Three days after Fudge's departure, Madam Pomfrey announced that Link and Harry had basically recovered and could return to their respective common rooms.
At the welcome-back party celebrating their discharge, everyone was in high spirits.
There's no need to mention how happy Emily, Hermione, and the others were. Even George and Fred Weasley risked being punished by Professor McGonagall to set off a batch of magically enhanced fireworks they'd secretly modified.
They lit them right in the Great Hall in front of everyone, driving Filch into a fury, though, out of respect for Link, he didn't dare explode on the spot.
Even Madame Maxime and old Barty, who had been staying at Hogwarts since the attack, showed up to join in the fun.
The only one whose expression didn't look particularly cheerful was Harry.
Having grown up among Muggles, he couldn't quite ignore the fact that he and the others had now completely fallen out with Fudge. After all, as Minister for Magic, Fudge was, translated into Muggle terms, the equivalent of a country's head of state.
He really couldn't imagine how terrifying it would be if he had offended the British Prime Minister to his face like that.
Surely the other side would retaliate.
Of course, out of teenage pride and stubbornness, Harry didn't voice what he was really thinking deep down.
Instead, he went around insisting that even without help from the Ministry of Magic, they could still defeat Voldemort.
That was pure bravado, because aside from studying the speech Link had asked him to prepare, Harry hadn't actually done anything concrete.
In that regard, Dumbledore and Link were entirely different from him.
After that argument with Fudge, the two of them quickly accepted the fact that not only would the Ministry refuse to help them, it would probably drag them down. So they began preparing for the coming struggle in earnest.
Dumbledore's approach was to reconvene the Order of the Phoenix and revive the old strategy of operating as a strike force against the Death Eaters.
At the same time, he and Link quietly continued with their original plan, to search for Horcruxes.
Link's methods, however, were much more straightforward. He had old Kreacher place the entire Flamel family into a quasi–wartime state, shifting part of their assets while rapidly expanding the ranks of their Hunters.
Of course, he hadn't abandoned the idea of extracting more resources from the Ministry either.
If Fudge wasn't willing to give something, Link intended to take it himself.
———
"Mr. Crouch, could you come with me for a moment?"
After the celebration ended, Link said this softly to old Barty, then waved away Emily, Cedric, and the others who wanted to accompany him back to the Hufflepuff common room. Instead, he went straight to the Room of Requirement.
Once the two of them had entered and the room had transformed into a parlor, the polite, empty smile that had been fixed on old Barty's face finally disappeared.
He spoke first, his expression dark, "Looks like your plan with Dumbledore failed. That one whose name must not be spoken has come back to life, and judging from the power of that attack, his forces seem stronger than they were thirteen years ago."
"So, what about my son? Don't tell me you failed to kill that little beast as well? That was our agreement, sealed with an Unbreakable Vow!"
"Yeah, you're right," Link replied calmly, pouring himself some coffee as he spoke.
"Voldemort's resurrected, and he's got another mysterious organization behind him now. In terms of both individual power and overall influence, they're on par with him and the old Death Eaters. You could say it's a sort of alliance of two great powers."
"And your dutiful son? No, he's not dead either. In fact, Voldemort's quite fond of him. Since your son helped with Voldemort's resurrection, his standing among the Death Eaters is likely higher than ever."
"But that's not the main issue. What matters most right now is that our dear Minister Fudge is still clinging to his rosy little delusions about Voldemort's return."
"A few days ago, he had a shouting match with me and Dumbledore, and things have completely fallen apart between us now."
Old Barty nodded at that, showing no surprise.
Even if he hadn't witnessed that confrontation himself, any observant person could tell that relations between Fudge and Hogwarts had soured badly.
The clearest sign was The Daily Prophet.
Just a few days earlier, the Prophet had praised Hogwarts' response to the attack to the skies. Link's actions that night were especially glorified, he was hailed as the most outstanding young wizard of the century, showered with honors, practically sanctified.
But within the last two days, the paper's tone had shifted abruptly, without any warning.
They'd started criticizing Dumbledore's handling of the incident, reporting on parents' complaints about Hogwarts, and never mentioned Link's name again.
It was actually a very clever move. Not only did it punish Dumbledore and Link, but it also redirected the anger that should've been aimed at the Ministry onto Hogwarts instead.
After all, Dumbledore's reputation was far greater than Fudge's.
That would normally make Fudge uneasy, but under the current circumstances, it was perfect for him.
If an old fox like Barty Crouch couldn't see through that, he wouldn't have survived in politics this long.
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples, looking weary.
"So," he asked, "what are you planning next? I believe you must already have a strategy in mind, otherwise, you wouldn't have called me here."
Link didn't answer immediately.
He lounged lazily on the sofa, swirled his cup a little, then gave old Barty a mysterious smile.
"Mr. Crouch," he said softly, "would you like to be Minister for Magic?"
"Hmm?!"
Old Barty's pupils contracted sharply. He stared at Link in astonishment.
———
It was a full half-hour later when old Barty finally left the Room of Requirement alone.
No one knew exactly what he and Link had discussed.
But compared to the frail, lifeless man from before, old Barty now looked ten years younger, brimming with energy and confidence.
That was easy to understand, after all, power is the greatest stimulant for a man.
And this was the post of Minister for Magic.
Over ten years ago, Barty had already charged for that position, only to be dragged into the mud by his rivals because of his son's disgrace.
Since then, he'd lost everything.
Every sleepless night, he'd wondered, if he had been the one to become Minister, would things have turned out differently?
After all these years of stewing on that thought, the post of Minister for Magic had become his obsession, his dream.
Now, Link had placed the chance to realize that dream right before him.
With the backing of the Flamel family, old Barty dared to dream of making another bid for power.
How could he not be excited?
Walking with a spring in his step, old Barty strode out of Hogwarts Castle beneath the setting sun.
Back inside the Room of Requirement, Link was still gently swirling his teacup, watching the spiral in the tea with amusement.
Emily suddenly stepped out from behind a wall. She came up behind him, rubbing his earlobe between her fingers as she watched old Barty's departing figure and asked, "You really think he can become Minister for Magic?"
"How could he possibly?"
Link sneered.
That confused Emily. She frowned.
"Then why invest in him at all?"
"The so-called Minister for Magic is just bait," Link explained.
"It gives him a banner to charge under, so that he'll fight with all he's got and bite off as much fat from the Ministry as possible for us."
"As for actually becoming Minister? In the current situation, it's impossible. And even if he could, I wouldn't allow it."
Emily was no naïve bookworm like Hermione. Hearing that, she immediately understood what Link was up to.
Still, it didn't completely put her at ease. She frowned again.
"Are you sure you can pull it off?"
"It's not too difficult," Link said calmly. "All we need is the right moment…"
Halfway through his sentence, he reached out and took her hand.
"Of course," he added, "there's something even more important I need to deal with first."
"What is it?"
Emily's voice turned shy, and a blush spread across her cheeks.
"Why, our engagement ceremony, of course! After this holiday, the contract between my mother and your father comes due!"
Link grinned wickedly as he pulled her into his arms.
The blush on Emily's face deepened to her ears. She gave a startled little cry but didn't actually resist.
In moments, the Room of Requirement was filled with laughter and warmth.
———
It was fully dark by the time Link and Emily finally left the room and headed straight for the Great Hall.
Tonight was the Leaving Feast. Dumbledore had emphasized that he would be announcing something very important, and all students were required to attend.
When they entered the hall, they immediately noticed that the usual decorations were gone. In their place were vast black drapes, not the banners of the House Cup winner.
Normally that would have sparked complaints from the winning house, but tonight, not a single person protested.
Everyone knew, it was to mourn those lost in the recent attack.
Because Link and Emily had lingered so long in the Room of Requirement, they arrived a little late.
Professor Sprout looked terribly anxious in the packed hall, clearly debating whether to go looking for Link. But when she saw him appear with Emily, and noticed the lingering flush on Emily's cheeks, the anger on her face melted instantly into a knowing, satisfied smile.
With the enthusiasm of someone who'd just watched "her pig finally root up the cabbage," she hurried over to greet them, even inviting Emily and Link to sit beside her at the Hufflepuff table.
That terrified poor Emily, her blush deepened and spread down her neck.
But in truth, because of the binding contract between their families, she and Link hadn't actually done anything improper.
Naturally, Link wasn't about to explain that.
He walked proudly at Professor Sprout's side, perfectly at ease as he joined the laughter and chatter of his housemates, even trading a few playful jabs with Cedric and John.
Just then, Dumbledore rose from his seat at the staff table.
Instantly, the already subdued Great Hall fell utterly silent.
"Another year," Dumbledore said quietly, "has come to an end."
He paused and looked toward the Ravenclaw table.
During the attack, Ravenclaw had suffered the worst losses. A sixth-year boy who had helped evacuate younger students had been struck by a stray curse. Three days ago, he'd succumbed to his injuries.
That loss weighed heavily over the Ravenclaw table tonight, every face looked pale and grief-stricken.
Professor Flitwick, overcome with emotion, was already sobbing quietly.
"There's much I wish to say tonight," Dumbledore finally continued. As he spoke, a faint, indescribable aura spread subtly from him, filling the hall.
"But first, I must make a solemn announcement. We have lost a dear friend, someone who should have been sitting here with us, sharing this meal."
"I ask everyone to rise and raise your glasses, to Michael Tonley."
Chairs scraped across the floor as everyone stood, raising their goblets and saying in low, resonant voices, "To Michael Tonley!"
The sound of the toast mingled with a few muffled sobs.
Truthfully, many of those present hadn't even heard the name before that night, but swept up in the solemn atmosphere, they couldn't help but feel grief for him.
Among the Hufflepuffs, Link sighed softly and gave Cedric, whose eyes were red, a gentle nudge.
"You really ought to thank me," he murmured.
Cedric blinked, startled. "Huh? Why?"
'Why? If not for me, the one they'd be mourning right now would be you!'
'Tonight's feast would be your memorial service!'
Link kept that thought to himself, only giving Cedric a meaningful glance that left him even more confused.
Up on the platform, Dumbledore seemed not to notice any of this. He waited a moment, then continued, "Michael Tonley was not the only one who sacrificed himself in this attack. Our champions, Link and Harry, as well as every one of you present here, have all endured deep pain from this tragedy."
"And I believe you, as the victims, have a right to know what truly happened."
His voice was calm, but the words ignited a storm below the stage, the students burst into whispers and shouts, demanding the truth.
In that fervent atmosphere, Dumbledore's face grew grave as he declared, "The one who planned and carried out this attack… was Voldemort."
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