"...Cornelius Fudge abruptly faltered midway through his inappropriate speech on 'Why pure-bloods are great and half-bloods deserve to die,' then fled in disgrace amid public protests."
"...Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge claimed that he had been under the control of the Imperius Curse!"
"...The Department of Magical Safety maintained that there had been no failures in the minister's security arrangements, calling the allegation an insult to its work.
'At least as of half a day ago, he (Fudge) definitely wasn't under the Imperius Curse. We'd just serviced the Waterfall, and you know how effective that thing is against the Imperius Curse.'
So said an employee of the Department of Magical Safety who wished to remain anonymous in an interview with this newspaper."
"The Fudge era draws to a close: what lies ahead for the Ministry of Magic?"
The enormous headline took up almost half the newspaper page. In the huge photograph, Fudge gazed into the camera, despondent and haggard, a far cry from the short, round-faced man with the ruddy complexion he had once been.
He looked almost a dozen years older now, but no one sympathized with him. Everyone thought he should get the hell out of the Minister for Magic's office immediately.
Zhang Xiao shook out the newspaper and set it aside, then picked up the black tea from the side cabinet and took a gentle sip.
The tea was dark and lustrous, rich on the tongue, with a faint, roasted bitterness.
He leaned back a little. The velvet backrest was soft and comfortable. Sunlight streamed through the tall decorative windows onto the patterned floor of the entrance hall, while his freshly laundered shirt carried the clean fragrance of soap.
The white shirt accentuated the boy's well-proportioned, upright figure. Shafts of sunlight, made visible by the Tyndall effect,