The Hogwarts Express wound its way through the rolling hills of Scotland.
Outside the windows, the landscape changed from moorland to farmland. The sky was gray, and rain pattered against the glass.
The compartment was a little stuffy.
Harry leafed through the Daily Prophet in his hands, then irritably tossed it onto the empty seat opposite.
He stared at the newspaper and said:
"This is absolute rubbish! Four whole pages discussing whether the Weird Sisters' new concert drummer has goblin blood, and another page teaching people how to clean up gnome droppings with spells."
Hermione sat by the window, holding a thick copy of the Advanced Rune Translation Guide. She looked up at his words, with little surprise in her eyes.
"What do you expect Fudge to say, Harry? Admit that You-Know-Who is back? Admit that he's made a complete mess of the wizarding world during his term?"
She lightly tapped the cover with her bookmark.
"The Professor said before that, for people like Fudge, as long as he doesn't acknowledge it, the crisis doesn't exist. It's stupid, but it works."
Ron was about to eat one of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, but paused at that.
"Do you think it's possible Fudge doesn't even know You-Know-Who is back? We only know because Harry got that guess from the Professor."
"And-" Ron frowned. "What about his servants? I mean, You-Know-Who is back. Shouldn't they be doing something?"
"That's what's strange."
Hermione closed her book, her brows drawing together slightly.
"It's too quiet. Whether it's Fudge or-the other side. It's quiet as though-"
"As though someone's holding in a loud fart."
The compartment door was yanked open, and Fred Weasley poked his head in with a wicked grin, carrying a smoking box.
"A crude comparison, but accurate, right?"
George squeezed in