Times Have Changed

Voldemort being beaten and forced to flee by Dumbledore was something to be happy about.

But for Fudge, he couldn't bring himself to be happy at all.

Voldemort Returns, Dumbledore's True Strength, The Worst Triwizard Tournament, Incompetent Ministry of Magic...

His mind was filled with a barrage of news headlines. The impact of that global broadcast was simply too awful.

The domestic public opinion was hard to gauge, but internationally, it was sure to be nothing but negative reports.

And through this broadcast, Fudge also realized something that had been overlooked: the overwhelming power that Dumbledore possessed.

Even though Voldemort had only just regained his strength, he had indeed been beaten and forced to flee, even abandoning his loyal servants.

Fudge took a deep breath, calmed his emotions, and narrowed his eyes at Vincent, who had his back to him, having just finished the broadcast.

This young man had been playing dumb all along. It was time to put away the tricks he used to fool children.

In the world of adults, there is no right or wrong, only eternal self-interest.

"Mr. Wayne."

Vincent turned around. "What is it, Minister?"

Fudge put on his signature fake smile. "We're going to deal with the spies in the Ministry next. Do you have any good suggestions?"

His attitude was mild, so it seemed that he had decided to take a softer approach after realizing that a hard one wouldn't work.

Vincent kept a straight face. "My suggestion is to receive them with the 'highest honors'."

Fudge smiled, seemingly unconcerned by his attitude. "Thank you for your suggestion. Dolores—"

Umbridge hurried forward respectfully. "Minister, at your service."

"Notify Scrimgeour to take his men and leave for Little Hangleton immediately." Fudge paused, glanced at Vincent, who still had a straight face. "Dolores, you stay here and handle the Triwizard Tournament."

Then he walked over to Madame Maxime. "I am so sorry, Madame, that you had to be frightened."

He spoke the usual polite platitudes, and then tentatively suggested that the results of the tournament would be announced after an investigation, and that the possibility of a rematch was not out of the question.

Madame Maxime, of course, knew he was just being polite.

The mere fact that Harry and Draco could be taken hundreds of miles away was telling enough. Coupled with the Triwizard Cup disappearing with them, Beauxbatons was going to suffer a regrettable defeat this year.

She said it didn't matter, that she didn't care about the results, but in reality, she was a little annoyed.

But when she thought about Durmstrang's performance, her mood improved significantly.

The former Death Eater headmaster had been controlled by the Imperius Curse, and the champion had lost his mind due to the pink smoke. If they hadn't been there to take the fall, she probably would have lost it and walked away.

"Well then—" Fudge put on his black bowler hat. "I should be off to Little Hangleton. Madame, Vincent, I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you both to spare some time tomorrow to give a statement at the Ministry."

Vincent would definitely have to go, but Madame Maxime was a bit suspicious. Fudge was probably going to try to silence her in the end.

To have such a Minister of Magic blinded by the desire for power, the British Wizarding World was truly cursed for eight lifetimes.

Before leaving, Fudge pulled Umbridge aside and said a few words to her. Then Umbridge's attitude took a complete 180-degree turn.

She had been baring her teeth at Vincent before, but now she was all smiles and flattery, her tone full of obsequiousness.

"Mr. Wayne, I apologize for my previous offenses. Please forgive me."

Vincent was disgusted by this act. He stiffly waved his hand and followed Madame Maxime back to the stands.

Watching the two of them walk away, Umbridge's face immediately changed. She clapped her hands loudly at the Ministry of Magic employees. "Alright, hurry up and take down the maze."

Sigh—to be stuck with such an incompetent Senior Undersecretary who always interferes was truly a sin.

Back in the stands, Vincent naturally received a hero's welcome.

Although he couldn't hear what they were saying below, just from the extremely uncomfortable expressions on Fudge and Umbridge's faces, he knew that Vincent had restored the interrupted broadcast.

Students were simple, passionate, and easily excitable. To dare to stand up to the Ministry of Magic was to be their superhero.

And amidst the cheers that echoed through the night sky, two people in the champions' family stands wore gloomy expressions.

Lucius clutched his burning arm tightly, while Narcissa's face was filled with worry for him.

The pain of the Dark Mark had not diminished but increased, indicating that Voldemort, who appeared to have been beaten and forced to flee, was gradually recovering.

If it hadn't been for the broadcast just now, Lucius might have succumbed to this power and returned.

But after watching the entire top-level duel between black and white magic, he not only felt genuinely fortunate but also disgusted with the Dark Mark on his arm.

Voldemort was a master of self-preservation, but they weren't.

Dumbledore was able to drive Barty Crouch away even after being stabbed in the back. They would be killed instantly if they went.

Which of those who had escaped the Death Eater trials back then couldn't see the current situation clearly?

Even old Nott, a veteran Death Eater, hadn't returned. It was estimated that only the lunatics in Azkaban were absolutely loyal.

Thinking of this, Lucius's expression became even more complicated.

Caught between fear and pain, he felt a little conflicted.

Times had changed. This was no longer an era where shouting "pure-blood supremacy" could attract a large following of wizards. Pure-blood supremacy was becoming increasingly unpopular.

Looking at the current wizarding world, wizards spent their free time watching dramas, browsing videos, or finding a few card players for a game of Gwent.

With their daily lives filled with abundant entertainment, how many wizards would still care about lineage and blood purity?

Lucius gazed across the stands at Vincent, surrounded by students.

That young man isn't even 20 yet. How could he possibly think about the distant future?

But regardless, the Malfoy Family needed to be prepared.

Voldemort, fleeing in disgrace, and Dumbledore, growing old.

Offering help in their time of need would certainly not be met with gratitude, and siding with the other would create a huge conflict with their own interests.

As Lucius's expression darkened, Scrimgeour arrived in Little Hangleton with the Aurors.

An hour ago, this place was a graveyard.

And now, all that remained was a ruin with countless traces of dangerous magic.

Draco had woken up, and he was masking the fear in his heart by cursing Peter Pettigrew, who had stunned him.

Harry, clutching the Triwizard Cup disguised as a Portkey, was talking to Dumbledore. They both fell silent when they noticed the Ministry of Magic's arrival.

Dumbledore smiled and walked forward. "Rufus, thank you for your hard work."

Scrimgeour and the Aurors looked at him with awe. "Not at all, Dumbledore. You're the one who's been working the hardest."

After some pleasantries, Fudge also arrived in Little Hangleton via Apparition.

He wore a fake smile and quickly walked towards Dumbledore.