John Major gave the man before him a quick once-over. He had a tough, capable air about him, more like someone from the military than a politician who spent his days behind a desk.
But he also looked exhausted, as though he hadn't slept well. His eyes were bloodshot.
Major rose and held out his hand. "Hello, Mr. Scrimgeour. I'm John Major. What exactly is this 'danger in the Wizarding World' you briefly mentioned in your letter a few days ago?"
They shook hands. Scrimgeour shook his head. "It's a long story..."
"Then please, have a seat, Mr. Scrimgeour. We can talk sitting down. Would you like something to drink?"
Scrimgeour nodded. "Strong tea. As strong as you can make it. No sugar."
A moment later, they sat at the table. Scrimgeour took a long drink of strong tea to fight off his fatigue, then began. "It started decades ago..."
A dozen or so minutes later, John had pieced together the gist of it. "You're saying that England's Wizarding World is in chaos because of a terrorist who died more than ten years ago and then came back to life?"
Scrimgeour nodded. "That's roughly right. But you may not understand what wizards are capable of, or just how terrifying he is.
"I contacted you because I hope you can cover things up when he causes trouble in the... ordinary world."
"Then, Mr. Scrimgeour," Major said thoughtfully, "could we help you? We could send soldiers, perhaps, or an elite special forces unit to deal with this 'Vol... Voldemort.' What a strange name."
Scrimgeour shook his head. "Forgive my bluntness, but you don't have the means to deal with Voldemort."
Major frowned. Scrimgeour could have shown him a little more respect.
Scrimgeour took another long drink of tea. "Prime Minister, please