Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

Death Eaters are fleeing on a large scale!

Mass death of Azkaban prisoners!

These are two unrelated things, and any wizard who can get an "A" in Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts can tell that the death of the prisoner is due to the dementor, not the cannibal. Dead Apostles.

But this is obviously an unrealistic requirement.

For the past thirty years, the quality of Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts class has fluctuated greatly from year to year, and "A" is a high score that many wizards can't even hope for.

Rita Skeeter is really changing. She tried to be objective, and even in the article, she specifically explained that the deaths of these prisoners were caused by dementors, and accused the Ministry of Magic of neglecting the management of Azkaban, even if the prisoners, That is also a human wizard.

Not everyone has the patience to read an entire story word by word.

"Death Eaters" were already frightening, but the word "death" filled their surroundings brightly and in large numbers.

The wizards were in a trance one morning, and they went back to sixteen years ago.

They recalled reports that had been published in the Daily Prophet.

Dumbledore and Potter played with lies. They deceived the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to create panic with rumors of "You-Know-Who is back" and "You-Know-Who is trying to come back" in order to deepen their influence on the wizarding world.

When the newspaper reprimanded over and over again, deepening the impression that "Dumbledore and Potter are liars".

It is also deepening the readers' impression of the "rumor" itself over and over again.

Public opinion backlashed violently.

The Ministry of Magic has become a dumping ground for Howler letters, and Fudge's office is the core receiving station.

Go to work at nine o'clock.

With two owls above his head, Scrimgeour was chasing after a batch of howling letters with grinning mouths, which made him very embarrassed. Although it was only a wave of his wand, he kept it, and he was not willing to deal with these things immediately.

The door of Fudge's office was unlocked by him.

"My dear Connelly." Scrimgeour was in high spirits, even when he said this, the owl's tail feather fell from his head and stuck to his mouth, "This is really bad news, see The Quibbler?"

"It's hard to imagine that the Ministry of Magic didn't know that they were dereliction of duty until after a magazine."

Fudge blushed: "You know what kind of magazine the Quibbler is!"

"You know what kind of woman Rita Skeeter is!"

"Crazy, disorganized, full of lies"

Scrimgeour interrupted him: "Connelly, Ms. Skeeter can't tell more lies than you."

"Rufus!" Fudge gritted his teeth.

"I've sent someone to investigate Azkaban, and we can get the results at noon at the most." Scrimgeour clapped his hands, his tone brisk, "Now let's prepare for an emergency meeting, whether this matter is true or not, we should Save the Ministry of Magic."

He flicked his wand.

Tons of roaring letters flew out behind them, and the magic that temporarily restrained them was invalidated, each of them opened their mouths wide, spouting foul language.

"Cornel Fudge, you guy with a head full of cockroaches, can we still be safe?"

"If I tie a dog in your position, I can do better than you!"

"A new era for the Ministry of Magic? Aha, it's a brand new era. At least no minister of magic can break out of Azkaban in two years!" - "A New Era for the Ministry of Magic" This is Fudge's speech The slogan he shouted when he released Sirius earned him at least five approval ratings.

However, now because of this sentence, he has lost at least ten points of support.

The scolding was like thunder.

Fudge raised his wand, flicked it lightly, and flames spewed out.

Scrimgeour recited the counter-curse: "My dear minister, these are the spurs of your dearest voters, why don't you listen to them carefully?"

"Rufus, don't go too far." Fudge gritted his teeth.

Scrimgeour sneered: "Minister, what you have done is not worth mentioning."

"At twelve o'clock at noon, see you, the Wizengamot."

He smoothed his hair that had been scratched by the owl, straightened his tie, and strode out of the office.

The Wizengamot is a very special institution. It has a large seat in the power structure of the entire Ministry of Magic, but usually nothing happens. This year is very special. They have held two meetings in just three months.

Once, for Cornelius Fudge, for Harry Potter.

This time also because of Cornelius Fudge.

twelve o'clock.

Dumbledore sat where Cornelius Fudge had been. He looked at the "friend" whose face remained the same but whose demeanor had undergone earth-shaking changes more than ten years ago. As the chief magician of the Wizengamot Teacher, he didn't speak.

No one asked him to speak.

The old witch sitting on the side spoke slowly.

This has always been Dumbledore's attitude. With his ability, status, and qualifications, he should be the chief magician, but he will not use any power—even if it is just a simple statement at the beginning, he I don't want to do it.

".To sum up, the current Director of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot Council, the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters, and the Department of Magical Transportation, a total of five departments have proposed impeachment opinions against the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "

"Minister Fudge, what else do you want to say?" The old witch took a deep breath and calmed down. She was too old, and it was a heavy burden for her to speak such a long paragraph in one breath.

She muttered to Dumbledore, "Albus, I suspect you're just tired of talking and don't want to do it."

Dumbledore shook his head with a smile, but said nothing.

"Did those people really escape from prison?" Fudge clenched his fists and nailed them to the table like fat, short and thick stakes.

Scrimgeour said, "Of course, the Auror who went to investigate has returned."

"It's not just the Death Eaters who escaped. The dementors broke their contracts and used prisoners as food. Even our jailers on Alcatraz died, from Avada Kedavra, and have been dead for at least a month."

At least one month.

Dumbledore raised his hand, pushed his glasses lightly, and leaned forward slightly.

Fudge ate two catties of Umbridge, his zygomaticus major and cheek muscles drooped like a pug.

"It seems that Minister Fudge has nothing to refute?" Scrimgeour raised his hand slowly, "I suggest, vote now."

Fudge smashed the table: "Wait!"

He pulled it up, dragged the chair and made a sharp sliding sound: "Now the Ministry of Magic can't do without me!"

"I can solve this problem!"

Scrimgeour tilted his head to look at him: "You've only solved one problem, and that was Sirius Black's problem, but my dear Minister Fudge, everyone knows that's not your problem."

"Without Mr. Potter's advice, you can't solve anything. It will just be the same as before. Mr. Black will be wronged and still hide like a fugitive, and you, again, will say "maybe what we could have done before, But it's too late" remarks, let time cover this matter up."

"You have no conviction."

"Cornel Fudge!"

He waved his hand and gave orders: "Vote now. Anyone who thinks it's time to impeach Cornelius Fudge and replace the Ministry of Magic with a reliable, capable, and thoughtful new minister, please raise your hand."

His hands are kept up.

Half of the wizards from the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic who were eligible to sit in the council raised their hands.

Voted to pass.

Umbridge was taken aback for a moment, but lowered his head and carefully recorded the content of the meeting.

Scrimgeour smiled smugly.

very good

He loved The Quibbler, and that report was the final straw that broke Fudge.

Fudge sat stiffly, neither speaking nor moving.

Scrimgeour glanced at him, looked away contemptuously, looked at Dumbledore again, and clapped his hands lightly: "Very well, it seems that everyone agrees to impeach this incompetent guy, the situation is urgent, we should choose A new Minister for Magic?"

The old witch of the Wizengamot nodded: "Then nominate and vote."

She raised her wand, waved it lightly, and a blackboard appeared: "I propose, Ms. Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I propose Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour, Chief of the Auror Office."

"I propose Mr. Pierce Thicknesse, Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Captain of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad."

Candidates for the Minister of Magic are usually born from real power departments.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is a word that appears on the resume of almost every minister.

This time was no exception, with the names of the three candidates written on the blackboard.

"Is there no other choice?" The old witch sighed. This is probably the term with the fewest number of candidates eligible to run for Minister of Magic.

Ludo Bagman's whereabouts are unknown.

Barty Crouch died.

"Then vote." The old witch said, looking at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink appeared in front of everyone out of thin air. This kind of advanced level of magic was only possible for him present.

Soon, everyone wrote down the names they recognized.

The ballot papers floated up and flew past the old witch's eyes one by one. She read the words on them and showed them to everyone, and then drew a horizontal line after the corresponding name on the blackboard.

after an hour.

All ballots are sung.

Scrimgeour stared at the blackboard, dumbfounded.

how so.

He calls himself the "Minister of Magic".

The old witch summed up the final results calmly: "Ms. Amelia Burns has eleven votes, Mr. Rufus Scrimgeour has thirty-nine votes, and Mr. Piers Thicknesse has fifty-six votes."

"Mr. Dumbledore abstained."

"The Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic voted to impeach the former Minister of Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge, and Mr. Pierce Thinknes, Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Captain of the Magical Law Enforcement Team, took over as Minister of Magic. "

applause.

A tall, thin, taciturn man with a goatee stood up, politely, and bowed to everyone.

I almost wrote the word "positive" to count the votes. After writing it, I found out that the British did not have the word "positive". I almost made a joke. Damn it!