The council chamber on the first floor was entirely unlike the rest of the building. Looking at its crude decoration alone, no one could possibly have associated it with the resplendent Ministry of Magic.
The cold stone had only been roughly polished, and the uneven walls had a primitive feel to them.
The dark, cold style of the chamber made it seem all the more solemn and imposing.
A group of elderly-looking witches and wizards stood on the circular tiers. They wore Wizengamot uniforms, their eyes full of scrutiny and curiosity. Many of them held positions in the Ministry of Magic.
Barty Crouch's appointment had barely passed. Only after several heated arguments and discussions had he defeated Susan Bones and Scrimgeour by a narrow margin.
Dumbledore stood at the front of the crowd, watching Barty Crouch intently. He was rather curious about why Crouch had been so eager to convene a supreme session of the Wizengamot immediately after taking office.
If his proposal passed, all would be well. If it failed, however, it would deal a considerable blow to his authority.
Well, thanks to Fudge, I'm still Wizengamot Chief. Dumbledore suddenly thought of that short man who had gone astray. Back then, Fudge had nervously spent an entire year preparing before daring to convene his first Wizengamot meeting.
Even then, the matter he had brought forward had been almost entirely uncontroversial.
Speaking of Fudge... Dumbledore's thoughts suddenly wandered. Fudge had not been having an easy time lately. Although he repeatedly insisted that he had been subjected to the Imperius Curse, the public did not seem to believe him. Frankly, he would have been better off saying he had been led astray.
For Britain's Minister for Magic, was being controlled by the Imperius Curse not an enormous humiliation?
It was nothing