A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Chapter 728 This is a life-or-death struggle!

The elevator doors opened again on the fourth floor.

Mrs. Eckmore, standing at the door, was stunned.

She witnessed a shocking scene:

Umbridge knelt on the ground, head tilted back, a disgusting smile on her lips, holding a wad of paper covered in liquid in her hand.

Oh, Merlin's stockings...

Mrs. Eckmore stood there, stunned. For a moment, she was tempted to go astray, and strange images began to flash through her mind.

No!

This is the Ministry of Magic's elevator! The two of you inside... This is outrageous!

Also... the elevator stops on almost every floor, with intervals of only a few seconds.

Minister, your speed is... a bit too fast, isn't it?

Mrs. Eckmore thought disdainfully.

Umbridge was about to explain, but stopped abruptly.

She was unaware of the inappropriateness of her posture; instead, she was thinking about other things.

How should I put it?

To be honest, it was just wiping the minister's shoes with saliva.

But... what is her status? She's an advisor to the Minister of Magic!

If an advisor were to shine the minister's shoes, doing such a house-elf-like job, wouldn't people think that Umbridge got her position by sucking up to the minister?

Although it's true, we can't let others think that way!

She rose to the top through her abilities and professional skills, not by flattering others!

Umbridge's mind raced, and she immediately said:

"The minister's contact lens fell out! Don't just stand there, hurry and help!"

Mrs. Eckmore hesitated again, and began a new round of imagining things.

Was Umbridge implying something to her?

No, she's a good woman!

She has a good husband, her daughter Marietta attends Hogwarts... a happy and fulfilling family life.

Fortunately, Umbridge had already shouted:

"Ah, I found it, I found it, you can go now."

Mrs. Ekmor paused for two seconds, and was about to leave when Umbridge called her back.

She threatened, "The minister doesn't want anyone to know he wears Muggle contact lenses, so don't say anything, or else..."

Mrs. Eckmore nodded hastily and ran off as fast as she could.

She was just a low-level employee at the Frodo Network Management Bureau; how could she dare to go out and spread rumors?

However, out of Umbridge's sight, a tiny beetle was taking pictures with a similarly miniature camera.

The angle is both unusual and unique!

The elevator swayed slightly as it ascended again, and a cold female voice announced, "First floor, the Minister of Magic's office and logistics department."

Fudge stepped out of the elevator and passed through one gleaming wooden door after another, each with a small sign indicating the name and job title of the person inside.

Fudge enjoyed the feeling. He had walked this road countless times, and each time he was drawn to the Ministry of Magic's majesty, complexity, and mystery.

Passing by the advisor's office, Umbridge didn't go in, but continued walking, following the minister toward his room.

The minister's office looks more like a luxurious living room.

There were no piles of documents, no letters urgently needing replies... only an oriental carpet, a black oak desk, and a chair with cushions.

The wall is decorated with a famous painting by Boucher, and the bookshelves are filled with books related to Fudge.

Some are introductions to him, some are endorsements he makes... and some are written by him himself to make money.

Fudge sat down on the velvet sofa, and Umbridge poured two glasses of Bordeaux wine and slowly walked over.

"Alright, Minister, don't be angry. I have other ways to help you deal with Dumbledore."

Umbridge massaged Fudge's shoulders.

"What method?" Fudge took a sip of his 30-year-old red wine.

"Since Weasley is no good, we can try to win over his son, that young man named Percy Weasley."

"Is it okay?" Fudge hesitated.

The Weasleys are all oddballs, and he doesn't think that guy named Percy will ever be one of his men.

"I'm confident, I can tell, he's the only 'normal' and 'intelligent' person in the Weasley family," Umbridge said confidently.

"Go and fetch him," Fudge instructed. "Don't let Arthur see him."

Soon, Umbridge led Percy into the room.

Fudge is reading the book he wrote this year, "Poverty Alleviation: Scotland's Last Poor Wizard Village Gets Out of Poverty, and Old Ranches Have New Ideas."

Percy stared at the book, somewhat excited.

Fudge looked up and said, "What, you've seen it too?"

"Yes, I read it for half an hour every night before I go to bed... I can recite almost every paragraph, Mr. Minister!" Percy trembled with excitement.

Fudge raised his eyebrows. "There are people who have memorized what he wrote?"

This novel way of licking made Fudge secretly pleased.

He immediately selected a few passages, and Percy, true to his academic background, memorized them completely.

"Not bad...not bad at all." Fudge looked at Percy, but suddenly said, "Child, I remember you committed a serious oversight."

You didn't realize that your boss, Crouch, was controlled by his son.

"I know...it's my fault...but...I..." Percy's lips trembled.

"My child, just one mistake like this is enough to ruin your political career," Fudge said, shaking his head.

"You should realize that Crouch has lost his mind and report it to your superiors immediately."

Percy looked pleadingly at Fudge.

"However... I can give you a chance." Fudge lowered his voice and gestured for Percy to sit down.

"As long as you're willing to cooperate with me... naturally no one will say anything more, and I can even give you a promotion and a raise."

I also have a distant cousin, I can introduce you to her.

If William were here, he would feel a sense of familiarity. He had even considered introducing this cousin to him.

"What do you want me to do?" Percy asked.

"Son, what is your father doing on the seventh floor?" Umbridge asked immediately.

Percy thought for a moment and replied, "He went to find Ludo Bagman. Bagman owes Garonne from Gringotts."

They seem to be trying to win over Gringotts... I didn't quite catch that.

"Gringotts?" Fudge frowned.

Is Dumbledore already trying to win over the goblins and sideline him?

Fudge's face grew increasingly grim.

"What else did you hear?" Umbridge asked.

"It seems to be... the International Wizarding Conference or something... They won't let me get close, I don't know..." Percy shook his head.

"The International Wizarding Conference." Fudge swallowed hard.

Could it be that at the conference, they announced the mysterious man's resurrection?

"Percy, I can transfer you out of the Department of International Exchange and Cooperation and give you a position as an assistant minister..." Fudge said slowly.

"Really?" Percy stood up. "Thank you, Minister!"

"But I need you to gather information for me... to find out about Dumbledore and Stark."

Percy struggled.

"Son, you need to know that I have evidence of Dumbledore's crimes. You are distancing yourself from him," Fudge continued.

"If something happens, your father won't be able to escape, but because of you... he will be safe."

Percy was pale, biting his lip. After a moment, he looked up and said:

"I agree!"

Percy left, but Fudge was clutching his head in pain.

The International Wizarding Conference.

Dumbledore is the president of the International Federation of Wizards.

"Minister, dealing with Dumbledore isn't difficult," Umbridge said with a smile.

"What do you mean?" Fudge turned his head. "He's the chairman, after all."

"Although Dumbledore is the president of the International Confederation of Wizards, he also has another identity, which is the representative of Britain," Umbridge said quickly.

"To become the representative of Great Britain, the Ministry of Magic must approve. Once you disqualify him, he is no longer the representative of Great Britain, and naturally, he cannot be the president."

Fudge remained silent.

In Britain, the wizards are the presidents of the association, naturally representing immense power and status.

Losing it would certainly be detrimental to Britain.

but……

Fudge suddenly remembered the first time he entered the main hall of the Ministry of Magic.

He was eighteen that year, about the same age as Percy, and ambitious.

He was wondering how long it would take to walk from the main hall to the minister's office.

But when I finally got to this point, I was already bald, and it had taken me a full thirty years.

Fouché cannot simply give up his ministerial position like this!

He gritted his teeth.

Politics is not a dinner party, but a life-or-death struggle!

Dumbledore, don't blame me for being ruthless.