A Fight to the Death!

The elevator doors opened again on the fourth floor.

Mrs. Edgecombe, standing at the door, was stunned.

She witnessed a shocking scene:

Umbridge knelt on the ground, head tilted back, a disgusting smile on her lips, holding a wad of paper covered in a sticky liquid in her hand.

Oh, Merlin's stockings...

Mrs. Edgecombe stood there, stunned. For a moment, she had a strong urge to go astray, and strange images began to flash through her mind.

No!

This is the Ministry of Magic's elevator! The two of you inside... that's ridiculous!

Also... the elevator stops at almost every floor, with intervals of only a few seconds.

Minister, your speed is... a bit too fast, isn't it?

Mrs. Edgecombe thought disdainfully.

Umbridge was about to explain, but stopped abruptly.

She was unaware of the inappropriateness of her posture; her mind was preoccupied with other things.

How should I put it?

To be honest, it was just wiping the minister's shoes with saliva.

But... what is her identity? She's an advisor to the Minister for Magic!

If an advisor were to shine the minister's shoes—doing such House-elf -like job—wouldn't people think that Umbridge got her position by currying favor with the minister?

Although it's true, we can't let others think that way!

She rose to the top through her abilities and professional skills, not by flattering others!

Umbridge's mind raced, and she immediately said:

"The minister's contact lens fell out! Don't just stand there, hurry up and help!"

Mrs. Edgecombe hesitated again, and began a new round of imagining things.

Was Umbridge hinting at something to her?

No, she's a good woman!

She has a good husband, her daughter Marietta attends Hogwarts... a happy and fulfilling family life.

Fortunately, Umbridge had already shouted:

"Ah, I found it, I found it, you can go now."

Mrs. Edgecombe paused for two seconds, and was about to leave when Umbridge called her back.

She threatened, "The minister doesn't want anyone to know he wears Muggle contact lenses, so don't say anything, or else..."

Mrs. Edgecombe nodded hastily and ran off as fast as she could.

She was just a low-level employee at the Floo Network Authority; how could she dare to go out and spread rumors?

However, out of Umbridge's sight, a tiny beetle was holding up a miniature camera and taking pictures.

A unique and surprising angle!

The elevator swayed slightly as it ascended again, and a cold female voice announced, "First floor, Minister's Office and logistics department."

Fudge stepped out of the elevator and passed through one gleaming wooden door after another, each with a small sign indicating the name and job title of the person inside.

Fudge was enjoying this feeling. He had walked this road countless times, and each time he was awestruck by the Ministry of Magic's majesty, complexity, and unfathomable nature.

Passing by the advisor's office, Umbridge didn't go in. Instead, he continued walking, following the minister towards his room.

The minister's office looks more like a luxurious living room.

No piles of documents? Instead, there are letters urgently needing replies... An oriental carpet, a black oak desk? And a chair with cushions.

A famous painting by Boucher adorns the wall, and the bookshelves are filled with books related to Fudge.

Some are introductions to him, some are endorsements he makes... and some are written by him himself to make money.

Fudge sat down on the velvet sofa, and Umbridge poured two glasses of Bole wine and slowly walked over.

"Alright? Minister? Don't be angry anymore? I have other ways to help you deal with Dumbledore."

Umbridge massaged Fudge's shoulders.

"What method?" Fudge took a sip of his 30-year-old red wine.

"Since Weasley isn't working, can we try to win over his son? That young man named Percy Weasley."

"Is it okay?" Fudge hesitated.

The Weasley family oddballs, and he certainly doesn't think that Percy will ever be one of his men.

"I'm confident, I can tell, he's the only 'normal' and 'intelligent' person in the Weasley family," Umbridge said confidently.

"Go and fetch him," Fudge instructed. "Don't let Arthur see him."

Soon, Umbridge led Percy into the room.

Fudge is reading his book, written this year, titled "Impoverished Wizards Help Scotland's Last Impoverished Wizard Village Escape Poverty: Old Ranches Find New Solutions."

Percy stared at the book, somewhat excited.

Fudge looked up and said, "What, you've seen it too?"

"Yes, I read for half an hour every night before bed... I can recite almost every paragraph, Mr. Minister!" Percy trembled with excitement.

Fudge raised an eyebrow. Someone actually memorized what he wrote?

This novel way of licking made Fudge secretly pleased.

He immediately selected a few passages, Percy, true to his academic background, memorized them completely.

"Not bad... not bad at all." Fudge looked at Percy, but suddenly said, "Child, I remember you committed a serious oversight."

You didn't realize that your boss Crouch, was controlled by his son.

"I know... it's my fault... but... I..." Percy's lips trembled.

"Child, just one mistake like this is enough to ruin your political career," Fudge shook his head and sighed.

"You should realize that Crouch has lost his mind and report it to your superiors immediately."

Percy looked at Fudge pleadingly.

"However... I can give you a chance." Fudge lowered his voice and gestured for Percy to sit down.

"As long as you're willing to cooperate with me... naturally no one will gossip, and I can even give you a promotion and a raise."

I also have a distant cousin, I can introduce you to her.

If William were here, he would feel a sense of familiarity. He had even considered introducing this cousin to him.

"What do you want me to do?" Percy asked.

"Son, what is your father doing on the seventh floor?" Umbridge asked immediately.

Percy hesitated for a moment before replying, "He went to find Ludo Bagman. Bagman owes Gringotts Galleon."

They seem to be trying to win over Gringotts... I didn't quite catch that."

"Gringotts?" Fudge frowned.

Is Dumbledore already trying to win over the Goblin and sideline him?

Fudge's face grew increasingly grim.

"What else did you hear?" Umbridge asked.

"It seems to be... the International Confederation of Wizards or something... They won't let me get close, I don't know..." Percy shook his head.

"The International Confederation of Wizards." Fudge swallowed hard.

Could it be that the You-Know-Who was resurrected at the conference?

"Percy, I can transfer you out of the Department of International Exchange and Cooperation and give you a position as an assistant minister..." Fudge said slowly.

"Really?" Percy stood up. "Thank you, Minister!"

"But I need you to help me gather information... to find out about Dumbledore and Stark."

Percy struggled.

"Son, you need to know that I already have evidence of Dumbledore's crimes. You're distancing yourself from him," Fudge continued.

"If something happens, your father won't be able to escape, but because of you... he will be safe."

Percy was pale, biting his lip. After a moment, he looked up and said:

I promise!

Percy left, but Fudge was clutching his head in pain.

The International Confederation of Wizards.

Dumbledore is the president of the International Confederation of Wizards.

"Minister, dealing with Dumbledore isn't difficult," Umbridge chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Fudge turned his head. "He's the chairman, after all."

"Although Dumbledore is the president of the International Confederation of Wizards, he also holds another position: the representative of the United Kingdom," Umbridge said quickly.

"To become the representative of the United Kingdom, the Ministry of Magic must approve. If you disqualify him, he will no longer be the representative of the United Kingdom, and naturally, he will not be the president."

Fudge remained silent.

In the United Kingdom, the wizards are the presidents of the International Confederation of Wizards, naturally representing immense power and status.

Losing it would certainly be detrimental to the United Kingdom.

but...

Fudge suddenly remembered the first time he entered the Ministry Atrium.

He was eighteen that year, about the same age as Percy, and ambitious.

He was wondering how long it would take to walk from the main hall to the minister's office.

But when he finally got back here, he was already bald, having taken a full thirty years.

Fudge cannot simply give up his ministerial position like this!

He gritted his teeth.

Politics is not a dinner party; it's a life-or-death struggle!

Dumbledore, don't blame me for being ruthless.

Blame it on... your own decision not to become the minister!

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