A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

"Ahem!" A voice came from the corner. Dorothea Bohem, the former head of St. Mungo's, said solemnly, "I can testify that the data about the patients in the documents was actually provided by me."

There was another rustling of documents being turned over. This time, no one raised any objections. Felix had earned the Order of Merlin for this contribution, and everyone knew about it. They just wanted to see more details.

The meeting is still ongoing.

"Felix Heap quelled the riots at the Quidditch World Cup and restored the Ministry of Magic's reputation," Professor Marchban announced loudly, drawing a much louder chorus of agreement from those around him. Fudge muttered something under his breath, his face grim.

Professor Marchban exclaimed, “I saw no commendation afterward; this incident is entirely deserving of a Merlin Medal.”

Fudge wiped his sweat and had to explain, "Uh, I think... at the time we were busy investigating and gathering evidence. The department had detained hundreds of troublemaking wizards, most of whom were from abroad. We had to handle it carefully... otherwise it could easily escalate into an international dispute..."

Professor Machiban gave a loud snort.

"And also—you're probably familiar with the current focus of public opinion: Felix Heap has demonstrated new value in ancient runes. We have reason to believe that his contribution is comparable to creating a completely new magic system!"

“Gerselda…this matter still needs to be discussed,” Fudge said, fiddling nervously with the documents in his hand. “Of course, it’s not that I disagree…it’s just that it’s too early, and we need to observe for a few more years…”

Machiban ignored him, closed the file in her hand, and glanced at it menacingly. "I think that's enough. Now I only have one question: what reason do we have to refuse someone like this joining Wizengamo?"

The meeting room became quieter as they looked around, seemingly waiting for others to speak.

At this point, Amelia Borns looked up from her documents. “I have a few questions for Mr. Felix Heap, just out of curiosity… They’re not really related to the topic of this meeting and won’t affect my approval of his entry into Wisengamo.”

“Ms. Burns, I’m sitting here to take questions,” Felix said.

"I've heard—the Patronus Charm is one of your most proficient spells? You've defeated hundreds of Dementors before?"

The wizards around them began to whisper among themselves, and many of them showed expressions of admiration.

"Yes."

"You also possess some kind of magic to destroy Dementors? Is it ancient magic?"

“Hmm, you could say that.” Felix nodded slightly; at least the Scaling Spell was ancient magic.

"Do you know they are employees of the Ministry of Magic?" Amelia Borns looked at him sternly.

“I know, and I also know they’ve lost control more than once,” Felix said calmly. “Not counting the two times at Hogwarts, similar heinous incidents have occurred even in Azkaban.” His words drew a murmur of discussion.

"Is it true?" someone asked in a low voice.

“That’s certainly true,” Ms. Burns agreed. “I’ve always been against using Dementors to guard wizarding prisons; it’s tantamount to—”

"Cough cough cough!" Fudge coughed violently. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've gone off-topic. The practice of choosing Dementors as guards of wizarding prisons has been going on for hundreds of years. They have done an excellent job in most cases, and occasional mistakes are to be forgiven."

"Excellent? Excellent!?"

Professor Machiban glared at Fudge, seemingly wanting to start a fight with him.

Dumbledore spoke up at the opportune moment, asking, "Does anyone have any questions before the formal vote?"

“I have a question,” a wizard raised his hand, smiling as he asked, “I’d like to ask for my granddaughter when the Emerald Crown from ‘Future World’ Company will be on sale?”

Many people chuckled softly.

At that moment, Fudge gestured to a witch with his eyes. Dolores Umbridge inwardly groaned. She hesitated for a few seconds, but still couldn't resist the temptation to return to the center of power.

“That’s right,” she said in a sweet, coquettish voice, causing the people around her to immediately frown. “I have great admiration for Mr. Hyp’s creation of the ‘Future World’ company. As everyone knows, it has become the largest company in the entire British magical world, currently with approximately—” She glanced quickly at the parchment on the table, “…one hundred and forty-seven people?”

“You seem to know more than I do, the boss of this company. You’ve really worked hard,” Felix said calmly, making Umbridge shudder.

Her face was beaming with a cloying smile. "I'm curious... why hire so many people? As far as I know, this company is still hiring non-stop. At this rate, in about two or three years, 'Future World' will probably have more employees than the Ministry of Magic..."

“Well,” Felix said calmly, “because it doesn’t meet my expectations.”

"Expectations? Forgive my bluntness, but are your expectations higher than those of the Ministry of Magic?"

“I don’t care about that,” Felix said. “You may have forgotten, Umbridge, that Futureworld isn’t the biggest company in Britain.”

"Please forgive me? I can't think of anything else—"

“Gringotts.” Felix uttered a name, and Umbridge’s expression looked like he had been forced to swallow a fly.

The wizard's expression softened in the conference room.

“I envision Future World as a multinational corporation, and its vision extends far beyond just one or two countries; it encompasses every wizarding community in the world,” Felix said. “Behind every glimpse of you, all the company’s employees are working toward a common goal.”

“This common goal is…?” Umbridge held her breath.

“It’s printed on the 'Future World' company’s brochure,” Felix said slowly. “Looks like you haven’t done your homework.”

Umbridge fell silent.

“Then let’s vote by raising our hands,” Dumbledore said, looking around. He was the first to raise his hand.

Minutes later, the proposal for Felix to enter Wizengamo was passed unanimously.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Then, please take your seats, new members of Wizengamor, and we shall begin our second agenda, which I myself will propose—”

Fudge's face suddenly trembled, not from fear, but from anger. He stared intently at Dumbledore, his fat, thick fingers twisting. Dumbledore acted as if he hadn't seen it, calmly stating his topic: "The return of Voldemort, and the impending Second Wizarding War."

Chapter 465 A Completely Different Attitude

A collective gasp filled the conference room. The wizard who had just inquired about discounts on new products for his granddaughter slid off his chair and onto the floor. He stood up cursing, but no one paid him any attention. The room was like a bustling marketplace. Even Professor Machiban stared at Dumbledore in astonishment.

“Are you sure he’s really back? Dumbledore, I mean… really back?” Amelia Borns asked seriously, her face behind her monocle.

Dumbledore shook his head slightly, and Ms. Burns' stiff body relaxed, her thick eyebrows returning to their proper positions.

"So, we still have time to prepare." She breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"The premise is that we can't turn a blind eye and pretend nothing happened—"

“Enough, Dumbledore!” Fudge shouted, his face turning purple and spittle flying, but he seemed completely oblivious. “Stop spreading terror! There is no evidence that he has really returned… or any sign of his return!”

"The evidence is right under your nose, Fudge. You just need to look down and examine it calmly for a few seconds," Dumbledore said.

"where is it?"

“Barty Crouch—”

“Aha! I knew you were going to say that!” Fudge ripped at his collar, his face and neck contorted with rage. He stood up, his top hat crumpled in his hand, and waved his arms excitedly. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you about this so-called evidence, and you’ll see how ridiculous it is—”

The members of Wissengamo stared wide-eyed as Fudge paced back and forth in the conference room, speaking loudly.

“Barty Crouch! I didn’t want to say this, it involves a scandal, but—the former director of the International Department of Magical Exchange and Cooperation committed a grave dereliction of duty twelve years ago, getting his damned Death Eater son out of prison and keeping it a secret from everyone! Barty Crouch used Polyjuice Potion to switch his wife and son, and the Dementors didn’t notice… I admit there are loopholes in Azkaban, and we’re considering adding a thief-proof waterfall to wash away all spells and the effects of Polyjuice Potion—”

Fudge stopped abruptly. With one hand gripping his bowler hat tightly and the other resting on the chair, he exclaimed, “Think about how insane he was, committing murder more than a decade ago. He was so…evil! Not much better than those Death Eaters.”

“Connelly,” Amelia frowned, “Barty did do something wrong, but according to his testimony, his wife was already dying, and Barty couldn’t resist her final pleas—”

“That’s not all!” Fudge interrupted her. “Barty Crouch committed more than just this one crime; he also drove his own son insane!”

The meeting room was quiet, save for Fudge's heavy breathing. He was like a dangerous gladiator, not in a room in the Ministry of Magic, but in an ancient arena, ready to fight anyone who dared to challenge him.

He met his destined opponent. Dumbledore crossed his arms on the table, looked at Fudge with interest, and said softly, "A peculiar idea! Fudge, I'm getting more and more interested in the ideas in your head. I'm all ears."

Fudge seemed to be infuriated by Dumbledore's calm expression, and then he raised his voice even louder, as if he had used an amplification spell.

“I have my evidence too, Dumbledore. If you choose to believe Barty Crouch, you must believe everything he says. Isn’t that right?” Fudge’s face broke into a strange smile. He had prepared for this day quite a bit, and now he spoke fluently.

His small eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, who met his gaze without flinching. Dumbledore seemed to radiate an indescribable power, and Fudge deliberately looked away.

"The Imperius Curse... Yes, everyone, have you ever thought about how Barty Crouch controlled his son? In order to keep his crimes hidden and continue climbing the ranks in the Ministry of Magic, he personally cast the Imperius Curse, binding young Crouch under the Invisibility Cloak for a full twelve years!"

“He deserved it, that little Death Eater!” Professor Marchbine exclaimed. “He was involved in the torture of the Longbottoms, a truly heinous crime—if it weren’t for Felix,” she glanced quickly to the side, “that poor couple would still be living a miserable life in St. Mungo’s.”

“I know,” Fudge said impatiently. “I assure you, I have no sympathy for that Death Eater. My uncle died in the war, and I hate them just as much as you do! I just want to tell you that Barty Crouch is insane, long ago. He’s not what you think. What would become of someone who used the Unforgivable Curse for twelve years straight? Hmm?”

Felix glanced at Fudge in astonishment. He had actually come up with this breakthrough. As for the effect, just look at the greatly shocked wizards to see—Barty Crouch's reputation was completely ruined, and no one would sympathize with him anymore.

However, considering that Dumbledore had found him yesterday, he knew that Dumbledore was also prepared.

“So you’re asking me what happened? It’s a tragedy,” Fudge said gravely. “The father abused his power and used the Imperius Curse to control his own son for his own benefit. Eventually, his son went mad under the curse’s influence, completely mad. He hallucinated that there was another voice in his head and that the mysterious man was still alive. But in any case, he broke free from the curse’s control. Instead, he controlled his father!”

"The spell messed up Crouch's mind. For the past six months, he has been pretending that he was under the command of the mysterious man, pretending that he was still serving the mysterious man, infiltrating Hogwarts, and torturing his father. All of this was in his imagination."

Felix breathed a long sigh of relief. He had gained a completely new understanding of Fudge's character; Fudge's stubbornness and obstinacy had opened his eyes. Fudge's strategy was also very convincing. First, he exposed Crouch's crimes, turning Crouch into a de facto dangerous criminal and providing a basis for the rationalization of Crouch's actions. Although there were still many flaws, it was already a plausible story. If he wasn't mistaken, Fudge would next destroy all of Crouch's testimonies—

“Barty Crouch has gone mad!” Fudge shouted. “He reappeared severely tormented, both mentally and physically!” He looked at Amelia Bornes. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Barty Crouch did suffer inhuman torture, but—” Ms. Burns began cautiously.

“The people of St. Mungo’s have confirmed his condition!” Fudge immediately looked at Dorothea Bohem. “Your… your healer, he personally admitted that Barty Crouch was severely affected by a Confusion Charm and memory manipulation!”

Ms. Boham nodded slowly. Many members of Wizengamo were persuaded, and their faces showed expressions of resignation.

“That’s the truth!” Fudge waved his hat. “No Mysterio! No war!” He put the hat on his head, smiled, and looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled, and even clapped his hands a few times. "Fudge, your stories are all based on imagination..."

"So, you have evidence?" Fudge asked impatiently.

Dumbledore said calmly, “If the evidence you’re expecting is seeing Voldemort standing in front of you with your own eyes,” Fudge couldn’t help but flinch at the name. Dumbledore continued, “I certainly don’t, but I’d be happy to share some facts and my own speculations based on those facts.”

"So you're planning to make up stories too, Dumbledore? I'm busy, I have no interest in hearing that—"

"I'm afraid that won't work," Dumbledore said.

"What—no?" Fudge gasped, as if Dumbledore wasn't speaking, but rather threatening him with his wand.

“Fudge, please forgive me, but I am the Chief Wizard of Wizengamot. Although you are the Minister for Magic, by procedure you are also a member of Wizengamot and must let me finish speaking,” Dumbledore said. Fudge stared at him, as if he had been whipped.

Felix sat quietly in his chair, deep in thought. He simply couldn't believe Dumbledore intended to reveal all the secrets about Voldemort. He was more inclined to believe Dumbledore intended to offer a warning; the question was, to what extent?

“Where shall we begin?” Dumbledore said softly. “On that night fourteen years ago, Voldemort, with the help of a traitor, entered the Potters’ safe house and killed them. But he failed in front of baby Harry Potter; his Killing Curse struck himself, and he lost his powers forever—”

“He’s dead,” Fudge said curtly.

"Where is the body?" Dumbledore asked in return.

“Nobody cares about that, Dumbledore!” Fudge said impatiently. “He’s dead! He’s probably ashes or someone took his body away.”

“It was just a hope,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “I realized then that it was possible that Voldemort was still alive somewhere in the world, barely surviving… But people were so eager to hear good news, so eager to restore order and embrace peace.”

“Where is the evidence, Dumbledore? Where is the evidence?” Fudge said.

“Why can’t you let him finish?” Professor Marchban exclaimed. “He wasn’t this rude when you were speaking!”

Fudge glared at her and muttered, "Fine, I'd like to hear... what evidence you have..."

“Thank you, Gersdale,” Dumbledore smiled and thanked Professor Marchban. He continued, “I didn’t voice my guess, but perhaps, as Fudge said, he really did turn to dust and die. Although, based on my knowledge of him, that possibility is very low.”

"One piece of evidence is the curse hanging over Hogwarts—Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was still in effect the year after Voldemort's death. This made me even more uneasy, so I took the initiative to gather evidence that he was still alive, paying attention to unusual sights and legends..."

“After several years, I finally found something suspicious in a Muggle newspaper,” Dumbledore said. “That’s right, I developed the habit of reading Muggle newspapers during those years, and I still do. I especially like the Sudoku puzzles in them, which Muggles say can prevent Alzheimer’s.”