Fudge was the first to arrive. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Anton openly building a team of his own, with a clear direction of its own.
"To be honest, I've always been afraid you'd leave me behind..."
Fudge spoke frankly to Anton, holding his hat with an emotional expression. "Not because I'm worried you'll abandon me the way Dumbledore did. It's because you'll go so far that I won't be able to keep up with you, and you might even forget all about me..."
Anton listened to Fudge ramble on, his expression turning odd. "I'm not going anywhere particularly far. I may keep advancing in magic, but my life will stay much the same. I have family and friends, and I live in one place."
"It's different. It's different." Fudge shook his head, unable to hide his delight. "I've always wanted to prove my abilities to you, but you seem to give without asking for anything in return. That's far too one-sided for a partnership."
"We should have a better working relationship. I need you, and you need me. That's a good thing."
As he spoke, Fudge's expression turned serious. He slowly bowed. "I'm very pleased to serve you, Lord Weasley."
"Oh..."
"Don't do that!" Anton nudged the old man's shoulder with his elbow. "Don't be so serious. I prefer a more relaxed atmosphere. Just call me Anton."
Fudge smiled and shook his head. "No, that wouldn't be right. I should address you as 'Lord Weasley.'"
Fine. Unless they were arguing about magic, Anton had never been able to win against this old bureaucrat.
He couldn't be bothered to debate such a trivial matter of address, so he asked the house-elf Dobby to lay out some refreshments on the conference table.
He hadn't really needed a waiter, but when