The Meeting

"Father, this sort of thing matters more in Muggle society. The British prime minister's first secretary obviously couldn't be someone of Russian descent, so Long-Eye used the alias Christopher Lee here." Allen answered his father's question first, then reassured the prime minister, "Please don't worry. The wizarding world won't sell your intelligence to Russian Muggles."

"Of course he wouldn't do that. Long-Eye is a well-trained Auror, someone we specifically assigned to protect you. Your Excellency, the Ministry of Magic places great importance on your safety," Owen said.

"Thank you very much, but I believe you cannot interfere with our personnel arrangements at will," the prime minister replied, unmoved.

"Are you dissatisfied with Long-Eye?" Owen remained perfectly amiable. In reality, they had planted wizards around quite a few high-ranking Muggles, but there was no need to tell him that.

"Of course I'm satisfied—I mean, I was—"

"Then there's no problem, is there?" Owen smiled.

"I... yes, as long as Christopher's work remains so... mm... so outstanding." In the end, the prime minister still had no choice but to compromise. At least they had been willing to tell him whom they had sent.

"It's not only work he can help shoulder for you. In fact, given the current situation, having an outstanding Auror protecting you personally is extremely important," Fudge said from the side as well.

"You mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might come after me?" Thinking of the topic from just now, the prime minister could not help breaking out in a cold sweat, his face turning pale. His frightened heart simply could not calm down.

The several meetings he had had with these wizards had never brought good news. Aside from the Black incident three years ago, less than a year later, a flustered and irritated Fudge had suddenly appeared out of thin