For the Stability and Unity of the Ministry of Magic

With less than half an hour left for the Ministry of Magic's higher-ups to think things through, it was clear that Peter Pettigrew was no longer going to be found.

Time passed slowly, and Fudge's face grew increasingly grim.

His tone was serious. "Gentlemen, we don't have much time left."

The higher-ups all looked troubled.

Either confess or postpone.

It's impossible for them to confess; the public's anger would burn them to ashes on the spot.

But to choose to postpone the execution at this critical juncture, even a fool would know that something is wrong.

Umbridge seems to have something to say; he probably has a plan.

However, she didn't dare to speak up immediately, but instead secretly observed with her eyes.

Needless to say, Fudge had never seen him so angry before.

Scrimgeour kept his head down, seemingly somewhat uneasy.

Most of the high-ranking officials, like Amelia Bones Amelia Bones, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had furrowed brows, while a few, like Ludo Bagman, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, adopted a passive and idle attitude.

The enormous British Ministry of Magic couldn't come up with a single brilliant solution.

Umbridge's lips curled up slightly.

The time had come to showcase her outstanding abilities, so she coughed lightly to attract everyone's attention.

Fudge quickly exchanged a glance with her. "Dolores, is there something you want to say?"

Umbridge straightened his back and strode forward to face the group of high-ranking officials, like a toad walking with its head held high.

She briefly enjoyed their expectant gazes before calmly and deliberately revealing her solution:

"Gentlemen, we can find someone to impersonate Peter Pettigrew, so we don't have to postpone today's execution or confess to the public."

"I object." The words had barely left his lips when a discordant voice suddenly rang out.

All eyes turned to Barty Crouch.

As always, he combed his short gray hair neatly, his expression more serious than ever. "Gentlemen," he said, "The death penalty cannot be faked. No matter who we bring in, we will still kill an innocent life."

Umbridge sneered, "Chief Crouch, we can find someone who isn't innocent."

Azkaban has plenty of prisoners who deserve to die anyway. They have made no contribution to the Wizarding World, and now that they can play a role before they die, they can be considered to have died a worthy death.

Barty Crouch's face was grim. "Senior Deputy Minister Umbridge, have you considered what will happen to us if the public finds out that we hired someone to impersonate you?"

This is an extremely serious political event. The current government leadership may be ousted, and it could even lead to the collapse of the entire Ministry of Magic.

What if it wasn't discovered?

All crises will cease to exist, and the Ministry of Magic will regain the public's trust along the original planned route.

Delaying or confessing means certain death either way, so finding a scapegoat might offer a glimmer of hope.

Fudge smiled knowingly. "Barty, I know you're a very principled person. Why don't you share your thoughts with everyone?"

Barty Crouch, with a righteous expression, said, "Regardless of how the public reacts, we should explain the whole story to them."

Fudge looked somewhat displeased.

He glanced at Umbridge, whose eyes darted around before he suddenly let out a mocking laugh.

"Chief Crouch, have you forgotten that you are the one who caused all of this?"

Her voice was high-pitched and particularly sharp, "If you hadn't convicted Black without trial, would Peter Pettigrew have been able to hide for so many years?"

Barty Crouch's lips trembled slightly.

Umbridge gave him no chance to explain. "Chief Crouch, don't you understand? The principles you insist on cannot solve the current problem. For the sake of the stability and unity of the Wizarding World, we must carry out the execution as scheduled today."

Although she was very sarcastic, she was absolutely right.

Compared to the stability and unity of the Wizarding World, what does the truth matter?

Moreover, this isn't the first time the Ministry of Magic has concealed the truth; as long as things are handled neatly, that's all that matters.

Even if it is eventually discovered that he was an imposter, the Ministry of Magic will have already rebuilt its credibility.

If we take a tougher approach, there will be no chance for the "rumors" to spread.

From this perspective, Umbridge's strategy was indeed the best.

Barty Crouch was speechless. He lowered his head, his face filled with grief and indignation, and clenched his fists tightly.

The matter has been settled, with only one crucial question remaining.

"Gentlemen, who should we hire to impersonate Peter Pettigrew?"

Who else could they turn to? Of course, it would be those damned Death Eaters of Azkaban.

Every year, many prisoners die inside, and no one would notice if one more or one less were to die.

Augustus Luke Wood, Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange...

With Polyjuice Potion available, you can choose any one of them.

Feeling guilty, Scrimgeour volunteered to choose a scapegoat.

At 9:55, he returned with "Peter Pettigrew".

Apart from his particularly fierce eyes and the fact that he kept spewing feces from his mouth, there was absolutely no flaw to be seen from his appearance.

"Listen up, you disgusting officials! Finally, one day, our great—"

Scrimgeour sealed his mouth with a spell, then put him into a daze with a very weak Stunning Spell.

They look so alike, so incredibly alike.

Fudge nodded with great satisfaction. "Gentlemen, it's time for us to set off."

The high-ranking officials successively achieved Apparition and arrived at Godric's Hollow.

Barty Crouch stared intently at "Peter Pettigrew" until Scrimgeour took him away.

10 a. m.

Escorted by several Auror, Peter Pettigrew was taken to the Potter Memorial.

His physical condition seemed much better; the wounds on his face had been treated. However, his eyes were somewhat vacant, which was very much in line with the state of being completely desperate and waiting for death.

Just as Umbridge had predicted, almost none of the wizards present noticed anything amiss.

Sirius Black, standing at the very front, looked at Peter Pettigrew kneeling before the monument with some confusion, as if he had sensed something.

He exchanged a glance with Lupin behind him and saw the same doubt in the other's eyes.

Although they had a vague feeling that something was wrong, neither of them could pinpoint what it was.

I hope it's just my imagination.

The Gwent flagship store in Diagon Alley and the Department of Magic's magical projections are simultaneously broadcasting the situation in Godric's Hollow, with the gradually zooming camera finally focusing on a Dementor slowly drifting down from the sky.

Compared to the increasingly cruel methods of execution in other countries, the Dementor's Kiss can be considered humane.

Just as the camera zoomed in on its slowly opening, hollow mouth, a sharp explosion suddenly rang out.

The wizards in Godric's Hollow all turned around to look behind them, and then screamed in terror.

The sound exploded into a bizarre, emerald-green skull, from which a giant python crawled out of its mouth, like a tongue.

The high-ranking officials of the Ministry of Magic near the Potter Memorial all stared wide-eyed, their faces filled with disbelief.

"You disgusting officials, listen up! Finally, one day, our great—"

The Death Eaters, disguised as Peter Pettigrew, inexplicably repeated his unfinished words in their ears.

It's been over a decade since I last saw this mark.

At this crucial juncture, the damned Dark Mark has reappeared.