"Count," Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge greeted Count Dantes and Donna Lockhart, closing the door behind them. "It's quite unusual for both you and Ms. Lockhart to request an audience together."
Count Dantes gestured for Donna to sit, then chuckled. "I apologize for disturbing the Minister's Christmas holiday. But you seem in high spirits lately?"
Fudge laughed and nodded. "With the Count's sponsorship, the Ministry has regained vitality—and as Minister, I'm naturally pleased."
"I'm also thrilled to see you happy," the Count replied, cutting to the chase. "But I've come today because I need a small favor."
Fudge shook his head, smiling. "If this is about Gilderoy Lockhart, I'm afraid I can't help."
Dantes gave a thumbs-up. "Your wisdom is impressive. Yes, we're here about Lockhart… But I recall that when the Minister and I first met, you mentioned finding someone to take the fall. I thought there might still be room to maneuver."
Fudge still refused. "That might've been before, but ever since the Dana Emrys incident, if we once again found an innocent person to replace a prisoner, the Ministry's credibility would be shattered! I'm sorry."
Dantes, unfazed, pointed at Donna. "No, we're not asking for an innocent replacement. Ms. Lockhart deeply loves her husband and is willing to go to prison in his place. This is secure—no Dana Emrys fiasco."
Fudge looked at Donna in disbelief. Her willing self-sacrifice didn't resemble someone under Imperius. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Let me confirm, Ms. Lockhart—are you going to prison instead of your husband—and are you under an Imperius Curse?"
Donna rose. "Minister, I love my husband very much. If you mean by Imperio that my heart is enslaved, then yes—I am utterly devoted."
Fudge laughed, masking his shock. But there was no involuntary influence—Donna's intent was clear.
He thought a moment, then shook his head. "I regret that even if Ms. Lockhart offers herself, I cannot comply. Lockhart is a Death Eater and has harmed countless respected wizards—it's too serious. I can't authorize it."
Dantes had anticipated this. Calmly, he presented his plan. "Minister, once Lockhart is freed, I'll send him to a great Eastern country to avoid scrutiny. He'll vanish from Britain."
Fudge still hesitated. "No, no…"
"So," continued Dantes, "two thousand Galleons."
Fudge's pupils shrank; a bead of sweat appeared. "No." "Five thousand."
Fudge grew pale. "It's not about the money."
Dantes snapped his fingers. "In addition to the five thousand Galleons, I'll donate 1% of the new city's annual profits to establish a Ministry of Magic Development Foundation. Under your leadership, that could earn you the title of best Minister in a hundred years."
The wizarding world already knew the new city was booming—European noble families and guilds were investing. One percent of its profits was staggering: enough to cover five years of Ministry expenses, paid yearly. Fudge's head spun.
"Ah…ah…" he stammered. "The Count is... too generous!"
He rose, eager. "Lockhart has been detained for two days—it's time to send him to Azkaban. How about tomorrow? Lockhart, you'll come then. As a humane Ministry, we'll let you say goodbye."
Donna's heart soared—her chance had arrived. Fudge's one-day delay would let her brew Polyjuice Potion. Once Lockhart was sent East, she'd get banged up briefly and be sprung by the Count. They'd reunite, the happy family of three starting fresh overseas.
"Thank you, Minister, thank you, Count!" she exclaimed.
Dantes nodded. "Madam, go prepare. We'll reconvene tomorrow. Now I'll discuss managing that 1% with the Minister."
"Very well," Fudge replied, struggling for words. "Your kindness... it's extraordinary."
"There's no need for thanks," Dantes said. "You and I, Lockhart and I—we're friends. Good luck on your way home."
Donna left. Once she disappeared, Fudge closed the door, breathing a sigh of both relief and tension.
"Count, are you sure about this?" he asked. "She's an Avery—if anything goes wrong…."
Dantes chuckled. "I want Lockhart out. He can aid my eastern ventures. As for Donna—she'll rot in Azkaban until the prison closes."
Fudge nodded—but a fear crept in. "What if Ollivander Avery notices his niece missing?"
Dantes laughed heartily. "Investigate? She married Lockhart—useless to her family now. Besides, Old Avery's obsessed with the new city's profits. He won't care about a niece."
Fudge exhaled. "I hope you're right. I just worry about the optics."
The Count waved a hand. "Don't worry. Instead, think about how you'll use that 1% of profits."
Fudge's face brightened instantly. "That's something worth considering!" He clapped his hands. "The Count, your investment insight is unparalleled—what do you suggest?"
Dantes bowed slightly. "Simple: set up the Ministry of Magic Development Foundation. I'll provide capable people to assist. With proper management, the returns could exceed even that 1%."
Fudge's hands met in a delighted clap. "Marvelous! Count, I can never repay you. How about I propose awarding you the honorary title of Deputy Minister of Magic?"
"I don't have time to work at the Ministry," the Count demurred.
"That's fine—it's honorific. A token of gratitude. You won't need to report to work."
"Very well, then I accept."
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