Fudge's assistant nodded, turned and quickly walked out of the office.
He walked through the corridor, bypassing the protesters blocking the elevator entrance, and descended the side staircase to the main hall.
The sounds from the main hall were several times louder than those from upstairs.
Hundreds of wizards huddled together, holding signs and chanting slogans. The buzzing sound crashed against the dark gray stone wall of the Ministry Atrium, creating a cacophony of indistinguishable words.
Several Ministry of Magic employees in purple robes stood at the edge of the crowd, pressing their hands down with all their might, shouting, "Please maintain order!" and "Please calm down!"
But their voices were drowned out as soon as they came out, like drops of water falling into a boiling oil pan.
Where is Fudge?
"Let Fudge out!"
Where was he when Diagon Alley burned down?
"Our taxes are supporting a bunch of useless people!"
A young witch wearing round-framed glasses stood at the front of the crowd, holding a wooden sign that read, " The Ministry of Magic must provide an explanation."
The middle-aged male wizard next to her was repeatedly shouting, " Fudge, get out!"
Inside the archway on the side of the main hall, several Auror leaned against the wall, looking at each other.
They were dressed in dark uniforms, their hands resting on their wands, but none of them dared to move.
They hadn't been trained for this kind of situation, and besides, they hadn't received any orders from above, so they didn't know who to listen to.
At that moment, Fudge's assistant came out from the side staircase.
He stood on the slightly raised stone platform in the center of the main hall, took his wand out of his pocket, and whispered a phrase into his throat.
"Quiet."
The Sonorus amplified his voice to every corner of the main hall.
Those two words were like a boulder crashing into the water, abruptly shattering the buzzing sound.
Hundreds of eyes turned and focused on the assistant's figure in the center of the stone platform.
The assistant cleared his throat; his expression was not good.
" Minister for Magic Mr. Fudge will be holding a press conference tonight."
A murmur arose from the crowd, but the assistant didn't give them much time to process it.
Mr. Fudge will explain the background and consequences of this incident at the press conference.
He paused, then emphasized his words.
"Furthermore, the Ministry of Magic fully fulfilled all its responsibilities in this incident."
After those words were spoken, the main hall fell silent for a moment.
Everyone's expression changed; the previously angry crowd now wore expressions of confusion.
"We hope that everyone will approach this incident rationally after tonight's press conference."
After saying this, the assistant didn't give anyone a chance to ask further questions.
He turned and jumped off the stone platform, quickly walked towards the side archway, and disappeared around the corner of the corridor.
The main hall was quiet for a few seconds, then erupted into chaos.
What did he say?
"Did the Ministry of Magic fulfill its duties?"
What duties did they perform when Diagon Alley was burned down?
"Since Fudge's assistant dares to say that, he must have something to offer, right?"
"You mean they actually did something?"
"Are you stupid? If the Ministry of Magic really did something, why haven't any Auror shown up in Diagon Alley?"
"Perhaps there are other reasons..."
"What reason could it be? Tell me, what reason could there be that not a single person from the Ministry of Magic showed up when Diagon Alley was burning?"
The young witch who had been holding the wooden sign lowered it, her expression shifting from anger to hesitation.
The middle-aged wizard next to her, whose voice had become hoarse from shouting, also stopped, frowning as if processing what he had just said.
"Could it be that we really misunderstood Fudge?" someone whispered.
No one could answer that question, but everyone remembered that interview tonight.
The news spread even faster than the Floo Network.
On the Diagon Alley, several wizards squatted in front of the charred shop, picking up usable items while chatting about news brought back by their neighbors who had just returned from the Ministry of Magic.
" Fudge will be holding a press conference tonight."
"He still dares to come out?"
He said the Ministry of Magic had done its duty.
"What duties did you fulfill? Did you just watch as the Fiendfyre down our shop?"
"I don't know, but since they dared to hold an interview, they must have something to offer, right?"
The noise level in the Leaky Cauldron was much higher than usual. Tom pushed a glass of Butterbeer in front of a customer and strained his ears to listen to the argument at the table in front of the bar.
"Let me tell you, Fudge may not be a great person, but he wouldn't lie about something like this."
How did you know?
"Think about it, if he lies, how will he explain himself when the press conference starts tonight and the reporters ask him questions?"
"What if he really does have something we don't know?"
"That's true... Perhaps the Ministry of Magic really did do something, but we just didn't see it?"
At the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta listened to several regular customers chat while wiping glasses.
Do you believe it?
"Take half the word. Fudge is a coward, but he wouldn't lie about something like this."
"So you're saying there's another story behind the Diagon Alley incident?"
"Maybe. Let's see what they say in the interview tonight."
The entire Wizarding World is waiting for tonight.
Meanwhile, at the headquarters of the Daily Prophet, a middle-aged wizard sat in a corner of the editorial office, with a stack of parchment covered in writing in front of him.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his fingers were stained with wet ink. He put down the Quick-Quotes Quill in his hand and let out a long breath.
"Finally finished writing."
He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again and looked down at the stack of parchment in front of him.
He was an intern reporter for The Daily Prophet named Allen Creech.
It was called an internship, but it was really just running errands and doing odd jobs. I would write short news articles, tiny and tucked away in the corner of the newspaper, without even getting a byline.
He had worked at this newspaper for almost five years and had never had the opportunity to write a real report, a report that could be published in the official edition and had his own byline.
But things are different now; yesterday he watched the entire battle from beginning to end in Diagon Alley.
When the man in the fox mask descended from the sky, he was crouching behind a shelf in front of a bookstore.
He witnessed every single encounter between the You-Know-Who and Lockhart, his Quick-Quotes Quill dancing wildly across the parchment as he recorded every single detail.
He opened the manuscript and read it again from beginning to end.
Although it's not exactly well-written, it includes every spell used in the battle descriptions and tries its best to recreate every word spoken by the masked man.
This includes the spell " Fiendfyre," the confrontation with Parseltongue, and the scene where the You-Know-Who tries to fly away but is stopped by Dumbledore.
He wrote the part about the mother and daughter being rescued with particular intensity; he felt he would never forget the image of the woman holding her child as they were rescued.
He nodded in satisfaction, then picked up the manuscript and headed towards Rita Skeeter's office deep in the editorial corridor.