Scrimgeour saw the look on Douglas's face that practically begged for a slap.
His brows knitted together, and his sharp yellow eyes glared at Douglas.
"What do you mean, it has nothing to do with you? Professor Holmes, didn't you hear?
"Fenrir Greyback! That lunatic! He's furious over Mr. Lupin's 'betrayal' and is preparing to recruit followers to take revenge! This will cause enormous trouble for the entire Ministry of Magic, especially the Auror Office!"
"Trouble?"
Douglas raised his eyebrows casually. That last sentence was what the man really wanted to say.
"Head Scrimgeour, is this really the Ministry of Magic's ability to handle a crisis?
"Or are you saying your Aurors can't even deal with a mere Greyback?
"Besides, didn't we just sell you a batch of advanced magical devices? Now is the perfect time to put them to use."
Scrimgeour's face flushed crimson. He slammed his hand on the table with a muffled bang.
"Mere? Spare us your smug remarks! That man has lived longer than either of us.
"Do you think those little gadgets of yours can solve every problem?
"We have our duties, and all you're doing now is making more trouble for us!
"The Quidditch World Cup is about to begin, and huge numbers of wizards from abroad will be pouring into the United Kingdom. Our Auror Office is already stretched thin. We simply don't have any spare manpower to deal with the threat posed by Greyback and his werewolves!"
Beside him, Minister Fudge rubbed his hands uneasily, glancing at Dumbledore from time to time as though hoping for some support, but Dumbledore merely drank his tea calmly, as if none of this concerned him.
"Oh, so that's it."
Douglas smiled as if he had suddenly understood.
"So you want me to solve this problem