Will's words fell on Scrimgeour's ears like a devil's whisper.
Scrimgeour stared into the young man's silver eyes, unable to speak. He hated to admit it, but Will Behrens was stronger than he was.
If anyone could stop Voldemort now, it was Behrens. Scrimgeour had to put his faith in him.
Scrimgeour knew that even if he recalled all four squads—A, B, Y, and Z—they could not stand against the Death Eaters led by Voldemort himself.
But the man before him?
Will said nothing. A faint smile rested on his face, without a trace of nerves. What Scrimgeour saw instead was confidence, as though Will were certain he could stop this disaster.
Yet Scrimgeour had no idea what kind of pact Will wanted. If all he wanted was magic, money, or some Ministry of Magic intelligence, Scrimgeour would agree without hesitation.
He would not hesitate even if Will wanted his life... But if he wanted greater power, a hand in the Ministry of Magic...
Scrimgeour could not imagine what a terrifying man who operated from the shadows might be plotting.
Will was in no hurry. Scrimgeour was not his only choice, merely his best one. At worst, Voldemort would seize the Ministry of Magic, and Will would have to put in the work to replace him.
Will could afford to wait Scrimgeour out. Scrimgeour, on the other hand, was in no position to bargain.
The seconds ticked by. At last, Scrimgeour spoke.
"I'm willing to make an Unbreakable Vow with you, but you can't—"
"If you want to bargain, forget it. Feel free to try fighting Voldemort yourself. I'll be going."
Will cut Scrimgeour off. He had no intention of negotiating.
This had never been a fair trade.
Had he studied day and night, poured everything into his research,