Well, that had been spoken too soon.
Fudge stood in the front row of the VIP Viewing Area.
His hands were red from clapping, his palms burning, but he could not stop.
Joy rose from the soles of his feet, raced up his spine, and rushed straight to the top of his head.
He felt his heart pounding wildly in his chest, soaring, spinning.
Never in his life had he been so certain that he stood on the right side of history.
"Write this down."
Fudge leaned toward Pius Thicknesse's ear, his voice very low but his words coming extremely fast.
"Tomorrow's Daily Prophet front page, the headline-With Minister Fudge's vigorous support-"
He paused and licked his lips.
"No, change that. Under Minister Fudge's personal care and strategic direction, the werewolf community achieves a historic breakthrough."
Thicknesse's quill hovered in midair as he hesitated for a second.
"Minister, might 'strategic direction' be a little-"
"Use it."
Fudge's eyes shone, and the commemorative medal on his chest glinted.
"Add another sentence-Minister Fudge stated that this achievement exemplified full cooperation between the Ministry of Magic and civilian forces, demonstrating this government's profound concern for vulnerable groups."
The more he spoke, the more excited he became, his voice unconsciously rising half a pitch.
"Did you hear me? Profound concern. Those words must be in bold."
Thicknesse wrote rapidly, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
Fudge nodded in satisfaction, straightened up again, clasped his hands behind his back, and raised his chin slightly.
He felt that his profile at this moment would be perfect for a cover.
Scrimgeour did not applaud.
He stood with his arms crossed at the command position beside the Viewing Stand, the Detection Device's screen lighting his angular jaw.
His gaze was not on the cheering crowd.