The chief of staff mustered his courage and said, "Minister, perhaps we can wait until the second half of that book is released before—"
"The second half?!" Fudge whirled around, his voice trembling with almost hysterical frustration. "What if the second half is about something even worse?"
"What if the second half describes someone dying? Can I wait? By the time I figure something out, it'll be too late!"
A brief silence fell over the office.
Fudge stood by the window, his hands gripping the windowsill, his chest heaving, his gaze fixed on the Ministry of Magic employees coming and going outside.
Unbeknownst to him, at the very moment he lashed out at the Chief of Staff, the patriarchs of the Wizarding World had already begun to take action.
The Owlery at Hogwarts has been busier than ever in the past few days.
Flocks of owls flew into the castle from all directions, their flapping wings making a constant sound.
Their feet were covered with densely packed letters, some written on ordinary parchment, some formal letters sealed with sealing wax, and some even delivered in the form of Howler.
As Professor McGonagall walked down the corridor, a grey owl swooped down from above and dropped a letter precisely in front of her. The envelope, scribbled in large, illegible letters, read, "To the Hogwarts Headmaster —Urgent!"
She bent down, picked up the letter, opened it, quickly scanned it, then folded the letter and put it in her pocket.
The letter was brief and anxious; it was from a mother asking if her child was safe and whether the school had taken any measures to protect students from the monster in the Chamber of Secrets.
She has received at least a hundred such letters in the past two days.
When the door to the Headmaster's Office was pushed open, Dumbledore was sitting in his high-backed chair, with stacks of letters piled up in front of him.
Some had been dismantled, while others remained standing, piled up like a small mountain.
McGonagall walked in, placed the letter she had just found on the corner of the table, and sighed, "Another one. I've lost count of how many this is. Parents are worried about their children."
Dumbledore removed his Half-moon Spectacles, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and his gaze fell on the pile of letters:
"It's not just parents who are worried; I just received a message from the board of directors as well."
He pushed a letter written on thick parchment, the envelope sealed with sealing wax bearing the Hogwarts Board of Governors emblem. McGonagall picked it up, unfolded it, and frowned more and more deeply.
Although the letter was politely worded, the urging in its tone was very clear:
"In light of the recent unusual events at Hogwarts, the Board of Governors requests that the Headmaster investigate the Chamber of Secrets incident as soon as possible and take all necessary measures to ensure student safety. The Board may provide additional resources if needed."
McGonagall put down the letter, her tone calm but clearly revealing a hint of dissatisfaction:
"That sounds nice, 'providing additional resource support,' but they know perfectly well that this isn't something that can be solved by simply adding a few more brooms."
Dumbledore didn't reply; he simply stared at the letter.
There was no anger in his blue eyes, only a quiet weariness, as if he had long anticipated this moment, but hadn't expected it to come so soon.
A few minutes later, an official letter from the Ministry of Magic landed on Dumbledore's desk.
The letter, personally signed by Fudge, was much sharper in tone than the board's letter, and its wording clearly carried a questioning undertone.
" Professor Dumbledore, the Ministry of Magic approved your request for additional security funding and a permit to hire external security personnel several weeks ago."
"Given these resources, why did the Chamber of Secrets incident still occur at Hogwarts?"
"Has your previous promise of 'strengthening defenses' been fulfilled? The Ministry of Magic needs a clear answer."
After reading the official letter, Dumbledore gently placed it on the table, his fingers resting on the edge of the envelope, without immediately responding to McGonagall's questioning gaze.
Fawkes flew down from the perch and landed on the top of Dumbledore's chair back, letting out a soft call, as if asking, "Are you alright?"
Dumbledore reached out and touched Fawkes's feathers, then slowly exhaled.
" Fudge must be having a real headache right now," he said, a barely perceptible wry smile in his voice. "He approved the funding and permits, thinking the matter was over."
"When things went wrong, he realized that money and licenses were inanimate, while danger was real."
McGonagall stood before the table, her voice visibly weary. "So what do we do now?"
"The students' parents are still waiting for a reply, and tomorrow's Daily Prophet will definitely continue the story, which will only increase the pressure."
Dumbledore gently brushed Fawkes off the back of his chair, stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the distant Black Lake, its surface shimmering with a greyish-green light.
Two swans glide slowly across the lake, completely unaware of what is happening inside the castle.
McGonagall waited a while but received no response. Just as she was about to speak again, Dumbledore suddenly turned around.
His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were speaking to everyone and the paintings in the room:
"Now I'm actually looking forward to the publication of the second half of that book."
McGonagall paused for a moment. " Albus?"
Dumbledore walked back to the table, folded the board letter and put it back in the envelope, then picked up Fudge's letter, glanced at it, and set it aside.
He looked up at McGonagall, his expression carrying an atypical, almost candid helplessness:
"We have too little information. The first half of that book only goes up to the point where the cat was petrified; the rest is missing."
"If the next part can tell us what will happen next—even just give us a hint—we can prepare in advance."
He paused for a moment, his tone neither softer nor more urgent:
"I feel like someone traveling in a fog, unable to see the road ahead. And that book is like an unlit streetlamp; I long for it to light up soon."
McGonagall remained silent for a moment, then simply nodded slightly.
She turned and walked out of the Headmaster's Office, the wooden door closing behind her with a soft thud.
Dumbledore sat back in his chair, his gaze shifting from the pile of letters on the table to the view out the window.
The Hogwarts grounds in the distance were bathed in the afternoon sunlight, with a few students occasionally walking on the lawn, looking as peaceful as ever.
But he knew that the calm was only on the surface.
He reached out and picked up the copy of " Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Part 1)" that was on the corner of the table, flipped through the cover which he had already read several times, and then put it back.
" Allen Wayne," he murmured the name, his tone almost a soliloquy of curiosity, "When exactly do you plan to reveal the rest of the story?"