The elevator stopped midway. The doors opened, revealing an elderly clerk with graying hair standing outside, holding a thick stack of reports.
He froze when he saw Scrimgeour in the elevator. "Chief Scrimgeour, you're back. That's... that's wonderful."
His voice was somewhat excited. "You go first. I'm not in a hurry."
"Let's go together." Scrimgeour stepped back to make room.
The old clerk entered the elevator with a grateful expression, while the staff member standing in the corner watched the scene with mild surprise.
When the elevator doors opened again, Scrimgeour strode out and headed for the archives.
As he passed a break room on the way, he keenly caught the conversation inside.
"Did you hear the old lion is back?"
"It's absolutely true. I just came from the entrance hall. His face looked even worse than before his leave. I'd bet he's holding back a lot of anger."
"Now he's the only one who dares not give Fudge a pleasant face... If only he could... sigh."
"Shh... Keep it down. But you're right. If he could rise to the top someday, then maybe..."
"Dream on. That dictator Fudge spends every day plotting how to weld his arse to the Minister's chair. The moment the old lion even thinks about it, he'll be kicked out."
Scrimgeour slowed his pace slightly.
It seemed the Ministry of Magic was not as rotten as people imagined.
What the employees who genuinely did their jobs needed was not a Minister full of empty boasts, but a leader who could shoulder responsibility and understood practical affairs.
Cornelius Fudge had long since lost these people's support.
After passing the break room and walking a little farther, he reached the archives.
Scrimgeour came to the restricted access section and explained his purpose to the elderly archivist on