Minister Fudge Really Is a Genius!

Amid the cries of shock, grief, and sympathy, Charle bit down on the Elder Wand.

But clearly, this thing must have been protected by some sort of spell that prevented physical damage.

Otherwise, after changing hands for so many centuries—and sometimes even being buried in graves—it would have shattered into splinters at the slightest accident.

Yet after all these years, it still functioned perfectly.

Charle bit down hard, but he could not even gnaw off a speck of wood from the Elder Wand. Instead, it made his teeth ache.

That made Charle change strategies. Like eating rock-hard frozen ice cream, he began to suck on it instead.

After only a few sucks, the Deep Blue System's notifications began ringing nonstop in his mind.

"Deduction Point +500..."

"Deduction Point +500..."

After just a few mouthfuls, he had gained nearly five thousand Deduction Points!

Charle sucked in a breath.

Was this the value of a Deathly Hallow?

Just sucking on it a few times gave him this many Deduction Points?!

Then, drawing on his previous experience in Dream R'lyeh, Charle emptied his mind and focused entirely on this opportunity to earn Deduction Points.

One suck, two sucks, three sucks...

Charle's Deduction Points continued to soar.

In the blink of an eye, they had nearly reached his previous peak of one hundred thousand points—enough to deduce even a basic, ordinary spell like Lumos into a forbidden spell like the Eternal Blazing Sun Spell!

Unfortunately, just as Charle was still reluctant to part with the Elder Wand, Dumbledore spoke gently, a helpless look on his face.

"Mr. Evans, could you please let go of my wand?"

Only then did Charle sheepishly release it.

Dumbledore lightly tapped the wand, and the few remaining marks on it vanished at once.

At that moment, a nurse from St. Mungo's Hospital hurried over with a tray and placed it before Charle.

"Poor child, look how hungry you are."

"Eat, go on, eat. Slow down—there's more if it isn't enough."

Only then did Charle realize something.

During the time Dak had kidnapped him, aside from the Sublimation Potion, he truly had not eaten or drunk anything else.

Even the little food that had been in his stomach had been disgustingly vomited back up.

He really was starving.

This time, Charle did not use the Deep Blue System to convert the food into Deduction Points. Instead, he lowered his head and began wolfing it down.

Aside from soothing the burning hunger in his stomach, he also needed to think about how to handle it if the Ministry of Magic Aurors asked what exactly had happened in Dak's basement later.

But when they saw Charle tucking into his meal, everyone in the hospital room visibly relaxed, including the few wizards who plainly exuded a bureaucratic air.

Rather than questioning a Muggle child who had only just suffered a magical outburst and been abducted by Dak about what had happened, they were clearly more concerned with something else.

Their approval ratings.

Charle was alive, and aside from being badly starved, he seemed mentally sound. That was the best possible news for them.

Otherwise, once the reporters got hold of the story and the Wizarding World saw Charle's miserable state, the public—already far from satisfied with them—might have their fury ignited in an instant.

Then the protests and demonstrations would come flooding in, while their political enemies would seize the chance to make a huge issue out of it. It might even force them out of office early.

Compared with that, did it really matter how Dak had died?

He had probably drunk some potion and gotten himself killed even more thoroughly.

If necessary, they could simply use the remaining traces to fabricate a suitably legendary tale.

The man was dead. The truth no longer mattered. What mattered was keeping their positions through this crisis.

A moment later, a short elderly man with a head of fluffy white hair walked over.

He glanced at Dumbledore by the bedside, wariness lurking deep in his eyes, as though afraid Dumbledore would use this incident to attack him and seize his power.

Then he approached Charle and introduced himself.

"Mr. Charle Evans, I am Cornelius Fudge, the current Minister of Magic. In your Muggle World, that would be called..."

"What was it again? Prime Minister? Ah, yes, that's the term."

"I deeply sympathize with what you have suffered. That deranged man Dak has already caused more than enough suffering in the Wizarding World. Thanks to your courage and wisdom, Dak has been eliminated this time, and you deserve the greatest credit."

After delivering a string of pleasantries, Fudge finally revealed his true purpose.

He hoped Charle would cooperate with the Ministry of Magic in some publicity efforts and interviews to calm public opinion.

Turn a big problem into a small one, and a small one into nothing at all.

Anger appeared in Dumbledore's eyes.

"Minister, Charle is still a child. He has just gone through something so terrible, and this is what you want to say to him now?"

Fudge gave an awkward laugh, but his attitude remained firm. With a hint of temptation, he said to Charle,

"Think about it. You will become a star in the Wizarding World's newspapers."

"You will be a new generation's Boy Who Lived. Do you know about the Boy Who Lived? In the Wizarding World, he is practically a legend."

"When you start school, all your classmates will look at you with admiration, including all those pretty little girls..."

"Cough, cough. Just imagine it!"

A trace of mockery rose in Charle's heart.

So meeting him really was better than hearing about him. Cornelius Fudge—the politician from Original Harry Potter who would sacrifice anything for his political career.

Even when Voldemort returned, he could dismiss it as nonsense. In the end, he gave the Death Eaters ample time to grow stronger, directly leading to the fall of the Ministry of Magic.

Many fans of Original Harry Potter jokingly called him an undercover Death Eater.

Looking at him now, he truly was a power-hungry creature through and through.

Unfortunately, the bait Fudge had laid out might work on ignorant children.

But inside Charle's body was an adult soul.

The Boy Who Lived?

Whoever wants a title with no benefits can have it.

In his previous life, at least being named an Outstanding Individual at work had helped when applying for professional qualifications!

After a moment, Charle repeated, "A star? Worshipped by thousands?"

Fudge nodded repeatedly.

"Yes, exactly!"

In Fudge's view, no child could resist such temptation.

But what he never expected was for Charle's expression to become utterly resolute, filled with a sense of responsibility.

"Minister Fudge, if you have looked into me, you would know that I am also a household-name celebrity in what you call the Muggle World."

"I have always believed that public figures need to have a sense of responsibility."

"I must tell the truth about what happened and expose Dak's evil exactly as it was. Only then can justice be served, and only then will parents and children pay greater attention to safety precautions, so that perhaps such things will not happen again in the future."

"I, Charle, have an unyielding backbone. I will never bury the truth for the sake of a mere title!"

"That price is not enough to buy me off!"

A gratified smile appeared on Dumbledore's face.

Charle was just a child, yet he possessed such courage, such determination, and such a strong sense of responsibility.

He was definitely a Gryffindor!

Fudge, meanwhile, looked thoroughly embarrassed.

His scheme had been exposed by a child like Charle, and he had even been lectured in return. The old fox felt his face burning with shame, and he desperately wanted to leave this humiliating scene at once.

But when he considered that if Charle really embellished the truth and the Wizarding World's newspapers gave it widespread coverage, the public could be stirred into an uproar and his position would truly become unstable.

Fudge endured the embarrassment and stayed.

Cold sweat streamed down his forehead as he racked his brains for a way to change Charle's mind.

Only then did he remember that the file he had read had mentioned Charle was a genius student known throughout Britain's Muggle World.

He had not paid attention to it at the time, but it now proved that using celebrity status to tempt Charle had been completely ineffective.

What other way was there to calm things down?

A thought flashed through Fudge's mind like lightning.

He remembered now. The file had also mentioned that Charle seemed to have an unusual obsession with food.

And judging by Charle's behavior since waking up, the information was clearly true.

With that thought, inspiration struck Fudge, and he offered another condition.

"Mr. Evans, to express our apology and compensate you, all of your future food and dining expenses in the Wizarding World will be reimbursed by the Wizarding World!"

The moment those words came out, Charle, who had been focused on devouring his hospital meal, abruptly raised his head, a strange gleam appearing in his eyes.

"Minister, are you serious?"

"Anything I eat can be reimbursed by the Wizarding World?"

"Even if I eat a lot and have just the tiniest little case of pica?"

Hearing Charle's question, Fudge was ecstatic. He nodded solemnly.

"Yes, all of it. We can sign an agreement right now. The Ministry of Magic will permanently guarantee your food expenses!"

The next moment, without the slightest hesitation, Charle said firmly,

"Deal!"

At the same time, he let out a heartfelt sigh.

"Minister Fudge, you really are a good man!"

As Charle sighed and accepted the offer, Dumbledore—who had just been standing beside him with a pleased smile—nearly tore out his beard.

What? Hadn't he just been talking about his unyielding backbone?

And now he agreed just for food reimbursement?

Charle Evans, I was wrong about you. You are absolutely not a Gryffindor.

You are definitely a Hufflepuff!

Fudge, meanwhile, wore the smile of an old fox, triumph surging through his heart.

I, Fudge, really am a genius. I saw through this child's weakness so easily and resolved a political crisis at a negligible cost. I can even use this to promote the Ministry of Magic's humanitarian concern.

As for reimbursing his meals...

Hahahaha, how much could a child possibly eat?

Even if he ate for a hundred years, could he possibly eat the Ministry of Magic into bankruptcy?!