Chapter 135: Threats
Rufus Scrimgeour had absolutely no desire to acknowledge the so-called Deputy Minister of Magic, a woman who had clawed her way up through pure sycophancy. He simply let out a cold snort and kept his eyes fixed on Fudge.
"...I see. Find the people who sent these letters, and... clean this place up. You can at least do that, can't you?" Fudge demanded, his eyes blazing with fury, though he could say nothing more forceful.
"I'm sorry, Minister, but I cannot do that," Scrimgeour said for the third time. This time, however, he offered an explanation before Fudge could have an aneurysm. "Cleaning the Ministry of Magic is not the responsibility of the Auror Office. The Galleons my Aurors are paid do not cover such duties."
"Furthermore," he continued, "many of the letter-writers have already signed their names. The Minister can simply speak with those individuals. There is no need to pursue those who did not dare to, or did not wish to, sign their names."
He knew exactly why Fudge was demanding the list. Fudge could only afford to bully those who didn't sign—the ones with no background, no power, who were too afraid to put their names to their dissent even when joining a popular movement. The ones who had the guts to sign their names and shove the letters in his face were, naturally, fearless. He couldn't touch them. So his only hope was to punch down, to use the wails of the weak to solidify his throne of power.
Before entering the office, Scrimgeour had deliberately picked up several of the signed letters. Now was the perfect time to slap them down on Fudge's desk. (As for how he had managed to so accurately select the signed envelopes, that remained a mystery.)
"Minister, here are the names of several who signed their letters. You can look them over. It is perfectly reasonable and legal for the Minister of Magic to have a conversation with wizards under his jurisdiction."
Scrimgeour helpfully tore open the envelopes and laid them out one by one in front of Fudge, pointing specifically to the signatures.
With the evidence right in his face, Fudge could no longer play dumb. "Ralvin Avery, Odysseus Montoya, Finch Shaw, Logan Mason—" he read, his voice trembling. "These are all newcomers who have joined the Ministry in the last few years. How dare they betray my trust! I was the one who promoted them, who gave them important positions to train them, and this is how they—"
"Damn that Ryan! Damn Ryan's faction of officials!"
As he laid out the letters, Scrimgeour added, "It's not just the young ones. There are a few more here. One of them is signed 'Arthur Weasley.'" He held the letter up for Fudge to see. "This gentleman also expressed his confusion regarding certain Ministerial Decrees."
"Arthur? The one in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office? What kind of piddling little department is that?" The anger on Fudge's face froze into a mask of pure shock. That such a minor official would dare to join this protest!
"Umbridge, summon this man here at once! Ask him if he still wants his job!" he bellowed, finally finding an opponent he thought he could crush.
"Yes, Minister!" Umbridge chirped, and was about to click out of the room on her high heels, waddling in her toad-like fashion.
Just then, Scrimgeour remarked, seemingly offhandedly, "Minister, I feel I must remind you that Arthur Weasley is a veteran member of the Order of the Phoenix, the organization founded by Mr. Dumbledore."
Dumbledore! The Order of the Phoenix!
The two names struck Fudge's head like sledgehammers, leaving him speechless and dazed.
Umbridge, however, was less affected. "What about Dumbledore? What about the Order of the Phoenix! Without the Minister's approval, they are illegal organizations. They should be grateful we haven't thrown them all in Azkaban!"
Scrimgeour turned to Fudge. "Minister, has she always been this brave?" He couldn't for the life of him figure out where Umbridge's confidence came from. Ralvin and the others had mobilized nearly seventy percent of the Ministry staff, not to mention countless others from all corners of the wizarding world connected through the hub that was Ryan. And Dumbledore himself seemed to be backing this move from the shadows. Fudge was facing opposition from the entire British wizarding world! And yet, with the situation this dire, Umbridge still believed that just because Fudge was the Minister, everyone had to obey him?
"Umbridge, wait a moment," Fudge said, stopping her. The name "Dumbledore" triggered a primal fear in him. And while fear couldn't restore one's sanity, it could certainly help one recognize reality.
"Umbridge, go and tell Arthur Weasley—no, go and inform Arthur that I would like him to come to my office. Remember, you are to invite him!"
"And if Ralvin and the others are in the Ministry today, invite them as well."
Fudge issued his new orders, his tone stern and formal. He specifically emphasized the word "invite," a far cry from the "arresting a prisoner" fantasy Umbridge had been entertaining.
"Yes, of course, Minister," Umbridge said. As an expert at sensing which way the wind was blowing and a master of sycophancy, she knew exactly what to do and what not to do. She headed off toward the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office on the sixth floor, hoping to find Arthur Weasley or at least his contact information.
Meanwhile, in the Minister's office.
"Calm now?" Scrimgeour asked, sitting opposite Fudge.
"Much better than this morning," Fudge said, sipping a cup of tea.
"There are some things I still wish to ask. Why did you decide to issue those decrees? And without consulting any of the seven Department Heads?" Scrimgeour inquired. This was what he understood least of all. Why had Fudge been so autocratic, not even informing the Department Heads who also served as Deputy Ministers?
"It was... nothing..." Fudge stammered.
Seeing this, Scrimgeour understood everything.
With the exception of a few Ministers who were complete puppets of the pure-blood families, most held significant power during their tenure. Fudge had been lucky. He had won his election by default when his opponent was hit by a massive scandal. But Fudge was also unlucky. His term in office coincided with the peak of a supremely powerful wizard's fame, which doomed him to be seen as nothing more than a mouthpiece and a puppet in the eyes of the wizarding public.
But when a mouthpiece and a puppet tries to break free, to use political maneuvering to gain real power, they are bound to do things that appear irrational to clever people.
"Minister, I must say, you have made a very serious mistake. One that I believe needs to be rectified," Scrimgeour said, his voice calm and soothing, his words sincere and full of concern for Fudge's well-being, as if he himself weren't one of the leading candidates for the next Minister of Magic.
Before Fudge could reply, Umbridge stumbled back into the room, frantic. "This is terrible! Arthur Weasley isn't at the Ministry, and I can't reach him! The same goes for Ralvin and the others! I've tried everything—Communicator, owl post, everything!"
Scrimgeour's face remained impassive, but inwardly he thought, Of course. The moment he had learned what was happening today, he had asked one of his younger Aurors what kind of person Ralvin was. He had been certain then that hanging banners and sending letters were not Ralvin's real plan. This was merely an appetizer.
What were they truly planning? For the first time, Scrimgeour felt a flicker of genuine curiosity.
~~~
Get early access to 50+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn