Cutting Off the Fuel

Skylar's rise to prominence has not been without its downsides.

The Ministry of Magic appeared powerless against him, but at Hogwarts, he incurred Umbridge's hostility, Skylar successfully shifted her focus from Dumbledore to him.

However, Umbridge soon discovered that Skylar was not another Dumbledore; he was far more formidable than the aging legendary wizard. While Dumbledore indeed powerful, his prestige was waning—in the past twenty years, he had never demonstrated decisive power in reality, and his warnings about Voldemort's resurrection had been premature, causing many wizards to feel psychologically resistant, and even, under the propaganda manipulation of the Ministry of Magic, to view him as a stubborn, unrealistic old man.

Skylar, however, chose the perfect timing.

Following Florian Fortescue's disappearance, coupled with the mysterious deaths or disappearances of Podmore, Bode, Moody, and others, the Ministry of Magic was unable to provide any reasonable explanation or bring the murderer to justice, which caused public panic.

The explanation for the Death Eaters' escape is riddled with loopholes and is simply unacceptable. What's most puzzling is that when Sirius Black escaped, there were Hit Wizard and Dementor searching for him everywhere, but this time, with eleven Death Eaters escaping, not a single Dementor could be found.

Skylar's "Malfoy Watchtower," with its precise analysis and detailed reporting, became a trusted voice in the wizarding community. And all the signs that had emerged supported the Lookout's claims, making everyone realize the truth that the Ministry of Magic had deliberately concealed.

Unlike Dumbledore, Skylar didn't act alone; he had a massive public opinion and popular support behind him. No matter how dissatisfied the Ministry of Magic was, without a legitimate and reasonable reason, any action against him would be seen as political persecution by the Ministry of Magic, only provoking a greater backlash from the public.

Umbridge wanted to deal with him, but found that she couldn't simply use her power to smear, isolate, or marginalize him as she had with Dumbledore.

This is Skylar Malfoy's approach—political problems, solved through political means!

In the corridors of Hogwarts, the Defense Against the Dark Arts had just ended, and students emerged from the classrooms in twos and threes, discussing the lessons. However, the short, stout figure standing at the end of the corridor made everyone instinctively lower their voices and even slow their pace, for fear of being spotted by her.

Umbridge, dressed in a peach-pink robe, adorned with extravagant ribbons, and sporting a hypocritical smile, stood in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of his abdomen, his gaze fixed intently on a certain student— Skylar Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy," her voice was like poison coated in sugar, soft yet menacing, "Please come to my office."

The surrounding students cast curious glances, some whispering with schadenfreude, while others looked on with astonishment. Umbridge had recently turned the entire school upside down, but her targets had always been Dumbledore and Harry Potter; why had she suddenly turned her attention to Skylar?

However, the blond boy who was called out merely raised an eyebrow slightly, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his lips.

"It would be my honor." His tone carried a hint of mockery, and he showed no fear in his every move, as if Umbridge were just an insignificant nobody.

He strode forward with a leisurely pace, as if he hadn't been summoned but had gone to the banquet on his own initiative. Umbridge's smile froze slightly, but she quickly recovered and turned to walk towards her office.

When Skylar entered the office, the air was filled with a strong scent of rose perfume, and the walls were covered with pink plates embroidered with cat patterns. The whole room exuded a nauseatingly sweet atmosphere.

Umbridge sat down behind his desk, picked up his teacup, took a small sip, and then put it down, his face still bearing that fake smile.

"Mr. Malfoy," she put down her teacup and spoke slowly, "You seem to have been quite busy lately."

Skylar leaned back lazily in his chair, his gaze indifferent. "It seems you, Professor, are very concerned about your students' extracurricular activities. You're truly dedicated."

Umbridge's smile widened slightly, but her tone became meaningful. "The Ministry of Magic has been keeping a close eye on Hogwarts, especially on... those influential students."

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sharp. "I've heard you've been doing quite a bit off-campus lately. Established a business alliance? And even launched a nationwide... 'illegal' radio station?"

Skylar chuckled lightly, meeting her gaze without flinching, his tone casual, "Professor, your information network is quite impressive. However, using the word 'illegal' is rather hasty; after all, the broadcast was merely disseminating facts and describing the current state of wizarding society."

Umbridge's smile faded, and his tone lowered. "The Ministry of Magic dislikes anyone inciting chaos, Mr. Malfoy. You'd better remember that in the wizarding world, challenging authority never ends well."

Skylar stared at Umbridge indifferently, a slight smile playing on his lips, carrying a hint of sarcasm.

After a long pause, he suddenly chuckled softly, his voice carrying a hint of contempt.

"Professor, do you know how much revenue the Ministry of Ministry of Magic generates?"

Umbridge frowned but did not answer.

Skylar continued, his voice calm and precise, each word seemingly striking the air. "Currently, the total economic output of the entire Britain wizarding society is less than one million Galleon, with over 80% of the tax revenue coming from Pure-blood families and commercial households."

Umbridge's fingers trembled slightly, and she unconsciously tightened her grip on the teacup.

Skylar continued, his tone casual as if in conversation. "In other words, the entire Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts, and even St Mungo's Hospital, all rely on the taxes paid by families like ours to function."

He leaned forward slightly, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "Of course, your salary, Professor, is included as well."

Umbridge's gaze suddenly froze, and a crack finally appeared in the smile on his face.

"I actually admire your courage," Skylar said with his usual wicked smile, but his eyes held a chilling coldness. "You know, with my current social standing, even Minister Fudge tries to befriend me, and you actually dare to... threaten me?"

Umbridge opened his mouth, but found himself unable to speak.

A mocking smile played on Skylar's lips as he rose from his seat and continued, "You can try it—starting tomorrow, all the Pure-blood families and merchants of the business alliances will have all their cash flow withdrawn from Gringotts and will cease paying all taxes."

Umbridge's face drained of color instantly, and her lips trembled slightly.

This move is a decisive blow.

Without financial support, how can the Ministry of Magic operate? If it can't even pay basic salaries, who will obey Ministry of Magic orders?

Even more terrifying is the possibility that if free public services like Hogwarts and St. Mungo's's are forced to cease as a result, the entire wizarding community will descend into chaos.

She could even picture the wizards' riot.

When the time comes, as long as a popular and respected figure emerges, he can easily become the new ruler with a single call to arms.

"You..." Umbridge finally spoke, trying to maintain her composure, but her voice trembled slightly, "You wouldn't do this."

Skylar smiled slightly, his eyes full of disdain, and walked calmly towards the door, casually uttering his final words. "Then let's give it a try."

"Wait... wait a minute!" Umbridge's face was already very pale, and her usual sweet voice was gone, replaced by a sob.

Skylar stopped and glanced back at her calmly, his gaze sending a chill down her spine.

"If the Ministry of Magic collapses, who do you think the wizards will follow?"

His voice was low and slow, each word seeming to strike Umbridge's nerves.

"Is it me? Or Voldemort?"

The door slammed shut, and the room fell into a deathly silence.

Umbridge's hands trembled, and the teacup in her hands suddenly fell to the ground, shards of porcelain scattering everywhere, yet she couldn't move a single finger.