Fudge stood frozen for a long time, unable to recover from the shock of Count Dantes' immeasurable wealth.
Such things were better left unexamined—because if one truly dwelled on them, the mere imagination might be enough to scare them to death.
After all, what kind of fortune must one possess to casually hang the Stonehenge itself inside their castle hall?
"Oh yes, I have no doubt about His Excellency the Count's financial resources!" Fudge finally said, forcing a smile.
Dantes nodded, as if everything was proceeding according to his plan.
"So, Minister, you agree to my proposal to establish a wizarding bank in Britain?"
Fudge blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the directness of the request.
"This matter… in principle, it should be feasible. However, I may need to return to the Ministry of Magic and discuss it further."
Dantes smiled warmly.
"Of course, such a significant matter warrants careful deliberation. Likewise, Minister, I too must give thoughtful consideration to whether my investment in the Ministry of Magic will bring the returns I expect."
Fudge awkwardly cleared his throat and sniffed.
"I don't believe there will be any serious obstacles. It's all just a matter of procedure—nothing more."
"That's very good news, Minister."
Dantes seemed quite pleased with Fudge's cooperative attitude. He suddenly leaned closer to the Minister and asked in a low voice:
"But, Minister… you know, once someone's wealth reaches a certain level, there are bound to be… small indulgences. Hobbies, you might say—some perhaps not entirely legal."
Fudge chuckled nervously.
"What sort of hobbies are we talking about? Do tell."
Dantes replied slowly, his voice low and deliberate:
"For instance, collecting magical creatures. This hobby may occasionally involve species whose trade is strictly forbidden."
"Ah."
Fudge blinked.
"Mr. Minister, just hypothetically—if I were ever found in possession of rare magical creatures, could I be exempted from imprisonment in Azkaban? I've heard Lucius Malfoy say that prison is utter hell."
Fudge forced another smile.
"Your Excellency, you do jest. With your wealth, surely you could find someone else to take the blame."
He paused, realizing what he'd said.
"Oh, forgive me. That's not something a Minister should say. Please forget I said that."
Dantes shook his head with a faint smile.
"Purely hypothetical, of course. What I mean, Mr. Minister, is that I hope my investment in the Ministry might earn me… certain privileges. It would make me very happy."
Fudge shrugged, but leaned in to whisper:
"I'm afraid I can't make such promises outright, Your Excellency… but I can make arrangements. If something ever happens, we could… substitute someone else in your place. Naturally, your financial contributions to the Ministry would need to continue."
Dantes smiled knowingly, though a faint reddish glimmer flashed deep within his eyes.
"Is this arrangement… reliable?"
Fudge chuckled confidently.
"Of course! It's happened before."
Fudge was, of course, unaware of Barty Crouch Sr., who had secretly swapped his dying wife for his imprisoned son. But now, he claimed such a thing had happened before…
Dantes' eyes turned a shade redder, but he suppressed his emotions.
Slowly… It's only a matter of another year or two. Minister, enjoy your good days while they last.
Dantes stood up.
"Minister, it was a 'pleasure' speaking with you, but I still have many guests to attend to. Please enjoy yourself—eat, drink, and have fun."
"Of course, Your Excellency. Your generosity is deeply impressive. I believe your wishes will soon come to fruition."
"Happy cooperation, Minister."
"Happy cooperation."
Dantes left the corner of the room, letting out a long breath. Just then, he was intercepted by two people—Ollivander Avery and Donna Avery.
"Mr. Count, please wait a moment."
Dantes turned and looked at the pair.
"May I ask who you are?"
"I am Ollivander Avery, head of the Avery family, and this is my niece, Donna Avery—a very outstanding young lady."
"Oh! The Averys—one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. I've heard a lot about your family. What brings you to me, Mr. Avery?"
Old Avery smiled and gently nudged Donna forward.
"I would like to introduce my niece to you. You're about the same age. Perhaps you could become good friends."
Dantes glanced at Donna. Her expression was a mixture of reluctance and curiosity—half reserved, half interested.
A rather transparent subtext emerged: My true love is Gilderoy Lockhart, but Count Dantes has exceptional qualities. If I must be paired with him, well… it's acceptable.
"Hello, Mr. Count. I'm Donna Avery."
"Hello, Miss Avery."
Old Avery laughed heartily.
"You young people enjoy your chat. I, an old man, shall leave you to it."
Donna Avery gave Dantes a shy glance and asked demurely:
"May I call you Mr. Dantes? I'm not used to addressing people by titles. It feels like I'm speaking to a label rather than a person."
"Of course," Dantes replied politely.
Donna hesitated, then spoke with an exaggerated smile:
"Mr. Dantes, may I ask what you look for in a spouse? I noticed that Mrs. Malfoy was helping you host the event today. I assume you're eager to find a virtuous wife?"
Dantes smirked.
"That's hard to say... But it sounds like Miss Avery might be interested in trying for the role?"
Donna lowered her head and murmured shyly.
That act of bashfulness made Dantes' skin crawl. He had the impulse to cast a Tongue-Tying Curse on her, followed by a Cruciatus Curse.
"Unfortunately, Miss Avery," he said calmly, "you and I are not destined."
Donna looked up, shocked, her eyes full of silent questions—Why not?
Dantes smiled.
"You see, I was born in the East, and in the East, there's a mystical art called face reading. It can predict a person's destiny to a certain extent. And from your face… I can tell your true match is not me."
"Really?" Donna asked in surprise. "Then can you tell who my true match is?"
Dantes smiled slyly.
"I have a feeling he's right here in this castle. Let me check—"
He gently reached out and plucked a single strand of hair from Donna's head.
Startled, she took a step back, but Dantes reassured her with a smile.
"This is merely part of a small ritual. No need to be alarmed."
He waved his wand, and a pink butterfly emerged above Donna's head. It fluttered gracefully around her once, then floated out of the castle hall.
"Go, Miss Avery. Follow it, and see who it leads you to."
Though the butterfly flew slowly and gently, Donna's heart was beating rapidly. Dantes walked behind her, noting how her shoulders stiffened and tightened.
They exited the hall, turning toward the western tower, which opened into a small garden enclosed by tall evergreen shrubs.
The butterfly moved through the garden's maze-like pathways, gradually picking up speed. Donna's steps became more hurried and less steady.
At last, the butterfly rounded a corner—and landed in a certain gentleman's coffee cup before vanishing into thin air.
"Oh, beautiful lady, your approach is most creative," said the man, grinning. "But unfortunately, I've already turned down ten date requests today."
Under the sunlight, his white teeth gleamed like pearls.
Donna stood completely stunned. The man in front of her… it was Gilderoy Lockhart—her dream lover. Her personal god.
Could it be… the Count's spell wasn't mistaken?
Lockhart noticed her dazed expression and was quite pleased with his own charm. He took a sip of his drink—
Why does this coffee taste like Ogden's Old Firewhisky?
His favorite liquor.
But that wasn't important. The woman before him was… somehow… remarkably attractive.
If she's not my fated partner, I'll die! he thought suddenly. She's perfect!
"Miss, may I know your name? I want to marry you!"
As soon as he said this, Donna's eyes rolled back. She fainted from sheer bliss.
Lockhart quickly stepped forward to catch her in his arms.
Hidden behind a hedge, Count Dantes watched the scene unfold with a calm smile.
Donna Avery's hair had been laced with a love potion, and with just a touch of Transfiguration, the setup was complete.
In the Wizarding World, plotting against someone could be that easy.
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