Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

In the office, discussions raged.

They looked at Thicknesses with different eyes.

But not as complicated as Stringer.

This... can't be something that Thinknes can do. He doesn't have such a smart brain, nor does he have the courage to break the boat. , make the choice that is best for you.

He stared at Thickness's left arm, which was still speaking impassionedly.

No Dark Mark on it.

He originally wanted to raid the Department of Mysteries today, capture these two Death Eaters, and force Thicknesse to give way, even if he couldn't catch the letters he had with Malfoy Manor, just relying on these Death Eaters His testimony was enough to convict Thicknesse - after all, Mr. Potter and Mr. Dumbledore stood behind him.

But now, this road is not easy to go.

Thicknesses was one step ahead of himself, he arrested the Death Eaters, he "convicted" himself.

Especially the last sentence.

"Always stand with Mr. Dumbledore and Potter first, and stand on the front line against Voldemort."

Almost pointing at his own nose and calling himself a lackey of "Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore". Can Thicknesse say such level words?

He can become the Minister of Magic.

But as before, the idea of ​​becoming the Minister of Iron and Blood and holding almost 100% real power by fighting the Death Eaters completely fell through because of that sentence.

Scrimgeour glanced at the officers in the room.

They were celebrating Voldemort's death, or were touched by Thickness's honesty, or were cheering for themselves

But he knows.

These people are now thinking about a question, that is, "Is the Ministry of Magic the Ministry of Magic of their wizards, or the Ministry of Magic of Mr. Potter and Mr. Dumbledore."

Sad man.

"Rufus, Rufus." Thicknesses called his name, "Come here."

Scrimgeour came back to his senses and walked towards him.

"Now the Ministry of Magic is qualified to be the minister, and the person who should be the minister is you." Thickness looked at him with a very enthusiastic tone, "Come up and have a few words with everyone."

Scrimgeour walked to the table.

At this moment, he undoubtedly became the master of this table and the master of this room.

"You-Know-Who, no, Voldemort is dead." Scrimgeour took a deep breath, and said the name that has always been scary, "Just in Malfoy Manor, not only Voldemort, but also a group of Death Eaters died. Tonks rushed over, dealt with the scene, and confirmed the identities of the Death Eaters."

He didn't mention Bellatrix.

The guy who was caught alive by Mr. Potter and is still in Hogwarts.

Mr. Porter said it would be useful to keep her.

Let Mr. Potter keep it, then.

"It can be said that Voldemort and his gang of Death Eaters are almost wiped out, and we are no longer threatened by them." Scrimgeour concluded softly.

Just when he was about to say the following words.

Thinknes took the lead in applauding, clattering, applauding eagerly.

Scrimgeour was interrupted, and the brewing emotions were also interrupted. When the applause gradually subsided, he continued: "I know very well that there are not only these two silverfish in the Ministry of Magic, but many more."

"I hope everyone can stand up, surrender and plead guilty, and don't let me do it myself."

"This way the crime will be lighter, and it will look better."

He looked at the crowd, many of them lowered their heads and did not speak.

Scrimgeour glanced at Thicknesse with some dissatisfaction—the former minister, at this moment, like most people, lowered his head.

If it weren't for that untimely applause, maybe someone would stand up and surrender by now.

He took a deep breath, and added: "As for Mr. Thicknesse, I think."

"I think Mr. Thicknesse can take over the position of head of the Auror Office." A Ministry of Magic official said, Gilbert Whymper of the Spell Experiment Committee.

Scrimgeour looked at him, but said nothing.

Gilbert Whymple looked serious: "Mr. Scrimgeour, after you became a minister, the position in the Auror's office became vacant, and someone needs to take over."

"I think Kingsley is very good." Scrimgeour spit out a name.

Kingsley Shacklebolt.

A successor that fits the bill almost perfectly for this group.

Capable and young.

Born in pure blood, he is also a member of the "Holy Twenty-Eight Families", the boss of Great Britain.

The only problem.

He is a member of the Order of the Phoenix and a direct descendant of Scrimgeour.

"Kingsley is of course good." Gilbert Whymper nodded, "but he is too young, I have to admit that he does have a lot of experience against dark wizards, but dear Rufus, we are now What is needed is order, not struggle, and we need to stabilize social order at this time."

"Although Minister Thinknes is controlled by the Imperius Curse, there is no doubt that he has brought us relative stability, hasn't he?"

Minister Sinnix—

These two words are a bit harsh.

"I approve of Minister Thicknesse taking over as Head of the Auror Office." A Ministry of Magic official raised his hand in agreement.

"I agree with Minister Thicknesse, too."

Several people spoke one after another, using the title of "Minister Thinknes" in their mouths.

Scrimgeour had a headache.

Is this what you have to face after becoming a minister?

I really want to be like Mr. Potter, take a wand, and chug them all.

Thinknes stood up and made a relief for him: "Everyone, don't do this, Rufus also has his considerations."

"Let's think about these things when we hold the new minister selection meeting in a few days."

Scrimgeour said in a deep voice, "So be it."

He came out from behind the table—the thought of becoming the master just now seemed to be just an illusion, and these stubborn guys were the real masters here.

The officials gradually dispersed, and many struck up a conversation with Scrimgeour.

It was also suggested to him that there were several girls of the right age in the family who could be introduced if Mr Scrimgeour were to consider marriage.

These news made him dizzy.

but

Anyway, something good happened today.

Not long after Scrimgeour returned to the Auror's office.

A person sneaked up to the door.

"My dear Rufus." A thin, tall man came over, wearing a peacock green robe, with thick and well-groomed hair, "I think, I have something to ask you."

Baird Knott.

Director of the Portkey Office, Department of Magical Transport.

"Mr. Nott, what do you want to know." Scrimgeour watched him carefully close the door, already having some definite thoughts in his mind.

Nott took a deep breath: "Rufus, what will you do with those Death Eaters who surrendered themselves?"

"I will deal with it lightly." Scrimgeour replied without hesitation, "but I'm afraid it will be difficult for such a person to stay in the Ministry of Magic."

"It's hard to stay in the Ministry of Magic?" Nott was a little surprised.

Scrimgeour nodded: "Of course, these silverfish have escaped punishment once, you know what I'm talking about, I mean more than ten years ago."

"There was a first time, but I don't think there should be a second time."

Nott clenched his fist: "But, this is not in compliance with the rules."

"What rule?" Scrimgeour asked.

Nott hesitated, unable to speak - of course, the rules of the pure-blood family.

Scrimgeour sighed, and said earnestly: "Even if there are rules, how will Mr. Potter explain it? He is still busy with other things. There are so many Death Eaters, not to mention dealing with them, but not punishing them, what do you think Mr. Potter will do?"

Nott blanched.

Scrimgeour went on: "I don't care, at most I will be beaten up by Mr. Potter."

"Broken a few ribs, lying in St. Mungo's for a few days"

"But you, I mean, what about those Death Eaters who are still at the Ministry, at large?"

"Mr. Potter wouldn't mind dismantling the Ministry of Magic, catching those people out, and giving them all respect with his own hands."

Nott's face grew paler.

"Mr. Dumbledore, he, he."

He wants to try to deceive himself.

Scrimgeour interrupted him: "Don't you think Mr. Potter can't do it?"

"Or, do you think Mr. Dumbledore can stop the angry Mr. Potter?"

Knott's legs went weak, he staggered back, and slammed into the door.

"Mr. Nott, I still have some work to do." Scrimgeour coughed twice, reminding him, "After all, I don't have much time to sit on this chair that has been with me for nearly ten years."

"When you leave, remember to close the door."

Nott nodded in despair, oh oh agreed, and left in a panic.

The death of Voldemort is a happy and hearty good news.

The Daily Prophet rejoiced.

The Quibbler also put it on the front page.

The whole wizarding world celebrated, for Voldemort's death, and for Harry Potter, and it was like ten years ago, all over again.

Somewhere in Great Britain.

In the empty underground cave, Lesnark clutched a newspaper, read the words on it, and gritted his teeth. The sounds of the fairies around him clanging and forging weapons were no longer so pleasant.

It took out a mirror and whispered a name: "Barty Crouch."

Ripples like mirror water waves.

After a while, it lights up, reflecting a human head.

"Dear Legnac, why are you contacting me at this time?" Barty Crouch's face was even paler in the mirror, the background was hazy, wrapped in a thick fog, and he couldn't see what was around him clearly. He carefully looked behind the goblin.

"The Dark Lord is dead!" Raignac almost growled. "What are you doing!"

"Our Revenge"

At this moment, Barty Crouch made sure that the things he was afraid of did not appear behind Raignac, relaxed a little, and waved his hand: "Everything is planned, my dear elf friend."

"Regardless of my father's death this time, or this publicity."

"Don't get so excited, okay?"