Chapter 1232 The Flourishing Ministry of Magic
Dumbledore was very proactive; he wouldn't put things off until tomorrow.
During his lunch break, he used the Floo Network to reach the Magic Department Hall, and the changes that greeted him made him frown slightly.
The usual composure and solemnity were replaced by dazzling prosperity, the sense of urgency vanished, and the wizards all wore genuine smiles.
Dumbledore went to the front desk, where a female employee greeted him with a smile.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Dumbledore, Minister Fudge is in a meeting, and you may have to wait a while."
"It's alright." Dumbledore arrived at the waiting area, where the brighter-colored sofa was clearly newly replaced.
He turned to look at the iconic building in the center of the foyer, the Magic Brothers Fountain.
The group of pure gold statues faintly radiated a dazzling light, and the circular pool at their base reflected shimmering circles of light, clearly having been meticulously restored and looking as good as new.
Not only the fountain, but also the floors, walls, ceiling decorations, and even the inconspicuous potted plants in the corners are all gleaming. No wonder the Ministry of Magic's reputation has improved recently; it turns out it's all thanks to this image-building project.
Dumbledore suddenly felt a little sad.
Danger is approaching, but the Ministry of Magic is indulging in a glamorous illusion.
An hour later, the female employee who had greeted him earlier came over with an apologetic look on her face.
“Mr. Dumbledore, Minister Fudge’s meeting has been extended, and you may have to wait a little longer.”
The meeting was probably just an excuse. Fouché was just overconfident because he thought he had the support of the people, and he started putting on airs.
As before, Dumbledore smiled and said, "It's alright."
Another hour passed, and only a few wizards remained who had come to handle their business.
The female staff member came again. The meeting was over, but Fudge still had official business to attend to.
"It's okay, I can keep waiting."
Dumbledore spoke in the same tone, which made the female employee feel incredibly guilty.
Once or twice is a coincidence, but what about the third time?
Even she could tell that Fudge intended to leave Dumbledore hanging in the hallway, and it was already a good thing that he didn't throw a tantrum and walk away on the spot.
A moment later, she brought over a delicate dessert.
Dumbledore was her former headmaster, so she knew, of course, that he had a sweet tooth.
Fudge had tried all sorts of desserts, including toffee pudding, syrup tarts, mixed fruit pies, rhubarb shortbread, and lemon frosting cake, but he still hadn't finished his official business.
At 5 p.m., it was closing time for most offices in the Ministry of Magic.
Dumbledore remained seated like a statue on the waiting area sofa. The empty plates on the coffee table in front of him had been cleared away by the female employee, who was also about to leave work.
As evening approached, Fudge finally finished dealing with his "heavy" official duties.
However, he did not come to the foyer himself, but instead sent a junior assistant.
Percy, now "promoted" to assistant minister, dared not look Dumbledore in the eye. "I am truly sorry, Minister Fudge is very busy and has kept you waiting."
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "It's much faster than I expected. I thought it would be late at night."
Percy, who had little sense of humor, could only offer an awkward smile and say, "This way, Professor Dumbledore."
The astute Dumbledore could tell at a glance that Fudge had something on his mind. An ordinary wizard might not know, but Fudge certainly knew about the Weasley family's relationship with the Order of the Phoenix.
By appointing Percy as assistant minister, it's clear to everyone what Fudge is up to.
Once inside the elevator, the two still didn't exchange any words.
The elevator doors opened, and the corridor leading to the minister's office seemed to have been slightly enlarged by the Seamless Stretch spell, making it appear much brighter.
Percy walked ahead, hesitant to say something, but even as he stood before the magnificent golden gate, he remained silent.
Dumbledore could understand his feelings.
Life's path is full of forks, and every choice one makes leads to a different outcome.
Good or bad, who can really tell the difference?
Even Dumbledore, who was over a hundred years old, dared not say that his choice was right, let alone the young Percy.
"Professor, I..."
"This door looks like it's been replaced too."
Percy stared, mouth agape, into those deep blue eyes that seemed to see right through him.
"Be yourself, my child. You will always be your parents' pride."
Percy's nose suddenly stung with tears, and he choked back a few sobs. "Thank you, Professor. I will definitely do my best."
Dumbledore nodded and gently knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Percy felt a strange sense of familiarity with the figure of him walking into the minister's office.
He felt the same determination when Vincent "escaped" from the Ministry of Magic a few months earlier.
At that moment, Percy finally understood something.
Inside the minister's office,
Dumbledore surveyed the room, which had not been completely destroyed by the Fiendfire but had instead become even more magnificent, with a blank expression.
The atmosphere that once carried the scents of old wood and parchment is gone, replaced by an overwhelmingly ostentatious luxury.
The rich gold hue is like a brutal gilding of power and desire.
The wall that originally displayed portraits of past ministers has been replaced by a huge magical mural depicting Cornelius Fudge, who is not sitting still but waving to an unseen crowd.
The portraits of other ministers were relegated to a corner, their frames shrunk, and most of them displayed gloomy or disdainful expressions.
Fudge himself stood behind the desk, his back to Dumbledore, intently admiring the monumental display case in front of him, crafted from gold and ebony.
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Dumbledore's footsteps were not loud. Fudge turned around after hearing the noise, a smug smile on his face.
"Albus! My dear friend! You've finally arrived, just in time to see my new arrangements."
He moved aside, revealing the monument-like display shelf. "What do you think? This is all to boost morale, you know, to restore public confidence in us!"
Dumbledore's sharp gaze from behind his crescent-shaped spectacles shot toward the most prominent spot on the shelf.
It was a crystal dome containing a large, melted iron mask.
Beside it were several smaller crystal domes, each containing a clump of ash, a broken wand, a small fragment of a black cloak, and a sickly pale left arm.
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze, his voice as cold as spring water: "Faith must be based on truth, Cornelius."
Fudge's smile froze instantly, his face turning from red to purple, but he forcibly suppressed it.
He chuckled dryly, walked closer to the desk, and gripped the edge as if seeking a shield. "I...I don't understand what you're talking about. That successful operation, the one commanded by the Ministry of Magic, was the Auror Office—"
Dumbledore calmly interrupted him, “If my intelligence is correct, your ‘spoils’ were actually obtained by the Muggle army at a heavy price.”
Sweat beaded on Fudge's forehead.
Dumbledore's intelligence network is terrifying; even other high-ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic don't know the truth about this matter.
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