"Woke up this morning to magpies chattering in the trees," Dudley said, swallowing a bite of fried dough stick and washing it down with a big gulp of soy milk. He flashed a grin at Fudge. "I was wondering what good news was coming, and turns out, it's a visit from an esteemed guest."
Nothing beats fried dough sticks with soy milk.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fudge asked, completely lost by Dudley's metaphorical flattery.
The man barely understood English wizarding culture, couldn't name half the magical plants in Herbology 101, and expecting him to grasp a figure of speech was a stretch too far.
No culture, no hope, Dudley thought to himself, but aloud he said, "I mean, Mr. Fudge, it's great to see you."
That straightforward line Fudge could handle.
"Likewise, Mr. Dursley," Fudge replied, his face creasing into a smile that made his wrinkles jiggle.
"Join us for breakfast," Dudley offered. "You probably haven't eaten yet."
"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Fudge said, even as he reached for a dough stick.
Sure, he'd had some porridge earlier, but that hardly filled him up. Watching Dudley and the others dig in with such enthusiasm had his stomach growling again. More importantly, seeing Harry Potter safe and sound put his mind at ease, and his appetite roared back.
cuisine is vast and varied, but it's not for everyone—tastes differ, after all. Even in China, people bicker over sweet versus savory dumplings or whether tofu pudding should be sweet, salty, or spicy. Hermione and the others loved it, but that's because they'd grown up around Dudley and his eating habits. Fudge, on the other hand, took two bites of the dough stick and set it down. He scanned the table, clearly not thrilled with the options, but his eyes lit up at the rice noodle rolls.
Then he proceeded to pile on an alarming amount of white sugar, followed by a generous dollop of jam and honey.
Dudley's eyelid twitched. Doesn't that make your teeth hurt?
The Aurors and Ministry staff standing behind Fudge could only watch, swallowing hard. Dudley hadn't invited them to eat, and there wasn't enough food to go around anyway—mostly because Dudley himself needed a lot of it.
Soon, breakfast was over. Cornish pixies cleared the plates and brought out cups of light tea to cut through the grease. This time, the Aurors and staff got some too.
They hadn't eaten, had watched everyone else feast, and now sipping tea on empty stomachs only made them hungrier.
"So, Mr. Fudge," Dudley said, breaking the silence, "what brings you here so early?"
Fudge's face twitched uncomfortably. He'd assumed Dudley had taken Harry to stay at a friend's place, not that he'd quietly bought a massive house like this.
Are the Dursleys that rich?
"Mr. Dursley, I'm here for Harry," Fudge said bluntly, turning to Harry. "We went to your uncle's place and found you weren't there. You had us in a panic, you know. Thank Merlin you're safe."
His voice dripped with concern, and he smiled warmly over his teacup, looking like a kindly uncle doting on a favorite nephew.
"Me?" Harry pointed at himself, confused. He'd assumed Fudge was here for Dudley, not him. Why would the Minister for Magic care so much about him?
As Dudley always said, "If someone's too nice for no reason, they're either up to no good or want something."
Harry glanced at Dudley. If anyone knew what was going on, it was D-bro. Always had, always would.
"It's about Sirius Black's escape, isn't it?" Dudley said, addressing both Fudge and Harry.
At the mention of Sirius Black, Fudge's expression shifted, his wrinkles quivering.
"Sirius Black? Who's that?" Harry asked, clueless.
"A dangerous convict from Azkaban," Hermione answered. Unlike Harry, who ignored wizarding news, she and Dudley made a point to keep up with major events.
"So this Sirius Black guy is connected to Harry? Is he coming after him for revenge?" Hermione deduced quickly.
"He's an extremely dangerous criminal," Fudge said, cutting her off sharply. He didn't want to get into details about Sirius Black's connection to the Potters. "Evil, brutal, bloodthirsty, deranged… a cold-blooded killer."
Fudge rattled off a list of Sirius's supposed sins, painting him as a psychotic murderer. If he could, he'd lock Harry up to keep him safe—at least while he was Minister. Harry Potter could not come to harm on his watch.
"With two weeks until Hogwarts starts, I think it's best if we take Harry somewhere safe, under Ministry protection," Fudge said, revealing his true purpose.
He wanted to take Harry away.
"Mr. Fudge, Harry's perfectly safe here," Dudley said firmly.
Fudge didn't hesitate. "But we're talking about Sirius Black—a vicious criminal. Mr. Dursley, I believe Harry would be safer at the Leaky Cauldron."
When it came to Harry and his own position as Minister, Fudge wasn't backing down—not for Dudley, not even for Dumbledore. Dudley might have a bright future, and Fudge was happy to be friendly, but not when his job was on the line. Power was intoxicating, and Fudge was hooked. Anything that threatened his position was an enemy.
And those Aurors he brought? They weren't here for a tea party. They were backup, ready to act if needed.
Dudley's patience was wearing thin. "I said, he's safe here, Mr. Fudge."
The Leaky Cauldron? You call that safe? I wouldn't even call Hogwarts safe.
"The Ministry must know Harry Potter's whereabouts!" Fudge snapped, his earlier warmth replaced by a hard edge.
Arrogance, ignorance, and a quick temper—classic Fudge. "The Ministry must know" was just a polite way of saying surveillance or soft imprisonment. It was the only way Fudge could feel secure.
"The Ministry doesn't need to know Harry's whereabouts," Dudley shot back, his tone just as unyielding.
The air grew tense, wands half-drawn. The Aurors hesitated, their eyes flicking between Dudley and Fudge. To them, Dudley and the others were just kids. Even in the worst-case scenario, they couldn't cast spells on young wizards.
What? Dudley could push open a triple-locked door? So what? He was just a kid with a bit of muscle.