Ministry of Magic, Minister's Office.
"Minister, once this report is published, your approval rating will rise by a full six points!"
A shrill female voice rang out, carrying just the right amount of surprise and flattery.
Its owner had a broad, fleshy face, with a small black velvet bow clipped into her short curls. Wrapped in a pink tweed coat, she wore a textbook professional smile as she continued to flatter him:
"This success is all thanks to your wise leadership."
Upon hearing the praise, Fudge leaned back in his spacious office chair and waved a hand with a chuckle.
"Umbridge, don't forget the Aurors' hard work." Though he said so, not a shred of the smile on his face was meant for the Aurors. "Mm, your publicity work was quite good too—"
Bang—
The door was violently flung open.
Scrimgeour did not knock. He simply pushed the door open and strode inside.
His movements were so urgent they bordered on rude. Behind gold-rimmed glasses, his yellow eyes swept over the office. When he caught sight of Umbridge, the sharpness in his gaze turned undisguisedly into disgust. He truly looked down on colleagues whose talent for flattery surpassed their ability to do their actual jobs.
"Head Scrimgeour," Umbridge spoke first, the smile on her face narrowing into an irritated line. "Have you forgotten that one must knock before entering the Minister's office?"
But Scrimgeour had no intention of acknowledging her. He strode straight to Fudge's desk and slapped a copy of the Daily Prophet onto it with such force that the ink bottle on the desk wobbled twice.
"Minister," he said in a low voice, every word seeming to squeeze out from between his teeth, "what is this supposed to mean: 'The heroic operation of Ministry of Magic Aurors eradicates