I was expelled from Hogwarts?

After Umbridge helped him solve his little troubles, Fudge felt refreshed.

He no longer found Peter Pettigrew so hideous when he saw Peter Pettigrew, tortured and dying, strapped to a chair.

On the contrary, he felt that Pettigrew Peter was his baby, and he had to protect it well.

At least this injury needs to be healed, otherwise Peter might not be able to survive and be sent to the Wizengamot for trial, and he would die directly.

Who tormented...the attack is really ruthless!

Fudge took a closer look and found that Peter was missing a few more fingers and his legs were broken. It seemed that Peter had been given some potions. Such pain was no longer as simple as purely physical torture.

Alas, Fudge is kind and can't bear to see this!

So, he walked out of the office quickly, out of sight and out of mind.

In the distance, Fudge saw Dumbledore talking to a young wizard.

He instantly recognized Newt's grandson... Rolf Scamander.

On Rove's first day of school, it was Fudge who sent Digory to the train station to investigate, check his box, and see if there were any dangerous magical animals hiding.

Newt has too many dark histories, and Fudge is also afraid that his grandson will follow suit, and some magical animals will escape, causing countless deaths and injuries to Hogwarts teachers and students.

Fortunately, Rove has been keeping his own place and looks like an honest man, unlike his grandfather.

Of course, Fudge was very impressed with Rove because of the handed down photo that Rita broke the news last summer:

Dozens of the world's most prominent and outstanding wizards gathered together!

And Luo Fu, as the only boy, stood in the middle of the group photo, and with that outstanding face, it was hard to forget!

Fudge walked over, he smiled and said:

"Albus, I have listened to Peter Pettigrew's confession, I will retry this case as soon as possible, rehabilitate Black, and give him justice!"

Dumbledore looked at Fudge in surprise. The minister was a little reluctant just now. How could this happen so quickly?

But since Fudge is willing to reopen the trial, Dumbledore has nothing to say.

"Thank you, Connelly."

"Albus, don't say that." Fudge said with a righteous look on his face:

"For the sake of the magic world, I don't care no matter how hard I suffer. No matter how tired I suffer, I will always face it. This is me, a conscientious minister of the Ministry of Magic..."

Dumbledore wasn't very fond of this official accent, he coughed a few times and said, "Connelly, I have one more thing to tell you."

"Whatever, just say it!" Fudge patted his chest and said, "I'll let someone do it right away!"

"Professor Lockhart, he was attacked by Peter Pettigrew and is now seriously injured and may not live long."

"Peter, he's really damned!" Fudge said angrily, fiddling with the dark green top hat in his hand:

"I know Lockhart, he is also a promising young talent, my wife likes his books very much, and is still a loyal fan of him.

She had attended his book club several times, and every time she came back, she would always be full of praise for Lockhart and praise him for being amazing!

Alas... Heaven is jealous of talents! ! "

Rove stood aside without speaking, just thinking, is this book club... serious?

Fudge said this, but he was also thinking in his heart, this Defense Against the Dark Arts position is... really evil!

How many times did this die?

"Albus, have you found the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Fudge looked concerned, but he was actually curious about who the new hapless guy was.

"Not yet." Dumbledore said with some melancholy: "I have sent letters to many people, but they all rejected me, especially Mr. Malfoy.

I think since he is so passionate about education, even though he is no longer a school trustee, he can continue to shine as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts... It's a pity. "

"..."

"So, Lucius was really kicked off the board?" Fudge asked.

"Yes, in order to drive me out, he once threatened other school managers that if they disagreed with him, they would curse their families." Dumbledore smiled and said:

"The other eleven school directors were not satisfied with Malfoy's behavior, so they kicked him out of the board."

"That's a pity." Fudge sighed, he thought Malfoy was so stupid, how dare he go against Dumbledore?

Fudge would not do this, he would only act like a good student, asking Dumbledore for everything... Everyone would support him as a minister if they saw it.

Dog licking is everything!

"Albus, I have something to ask you too." Fudge asked:

"Who captured Peter Pettigrew? I will find a way to help apply for the Order of Merlin in recognition of his merits.

Level two, there is no sure problem, level one, I need to find a way to fight for it! "

This is the idea that Fudge came up with, not only to give Blake a lot of publicity, but also to make the wizard who captured Peter become the recipient of the Merlin Medal... The bigger the commotion, the more trouble Crouch encountered.

Rove raised his eyebrows, and Hermione really hit the mark. He thanked, "Thank you, Minister."

Fudge glared at Rove and said, "Peter Pettigrew that you caught?"

"Yes, let me introduce you, Connelly." Dumbledore said warmly, "This is Rolf Scamander."

"I know, Mr. Newt Scamander's grandson." Fudge stretched out his hand enthusiastically, and said with a smile, "You are really young and promising."

"You're flattering, it's all the cultivation of the school." Rove also said in an official tone, cheerfully perfunctory.

Fudge suddenly remembered something, he frowned and said: "Rove, if you are, you are in some trouble."

"What's wrong?"

"Are you only twelve years old this year? You are the youngest recipient of the award!"

Fudge sighed: "Sir Merlin's review has always been very picky, and they are generally not very friendly to young applicants."

Rove nodded slightly, but thought that he was not an ordinary person.

He knew more than half of the wizards who audited Sir Merlin, such as Geselda Marchban...they attended Nicol's funeral together.

They are all acquaintances, hey, this is a network!

...

...

Along the road paved with black rocks, a group of wizards came to a cell.

In the room, there was only one prisoner. He was sitting in a corner against the wall. His robe was in tatters, his hair was disheveled, and his body was covered in mud. He hung his head in silence and could not see his face clearly.

"Sirius Black," began Scrimgeour, "can you hear me?"

But the man was just sitting there, like a "living" corpse, just not buried.

"Is he already crazy?" Behind Scrimgeour stood a wizard with short hair, he frowned and said:

"No one can live healthy and healthy under the inhalation of a dementor. This guy has been imprisoned for eleven years."

"Open the door, Dawlish!" said Scrimgeour.

"Yes, head!" The short-haired wizard took out a key and stuffed it into the dusty keyhole.

With a creaking sound, the solid door was opened.

Scrimgeour walked into the room, he stood in front of Sirius, and said in a deep voice:

"Blake, we are going to transfer you to the Ministry of Magic. Things have turned around in the past, and we need to re-trial you."

But the man still didn't respond.

Scrimgeour thought for a while, then sighed: "Peter Pettigrew is still alive, he has been captured."

The prisoner suddenly raised his head and stared at Scrimgeour. His voice was hoarse and muffled, like the roar of a wild animal, but he hadn't spoken for a long time, and at this moment it was vague, and no one could understand what he was saying.

"Peter is really caught," repeated Scrimgeour:

"Rolf Scamander caught him, the case will be reopened and you will be free."

Black's cloudy eyes gradually regained clarity. He repeated Rove's name indistinctly, then stood up suddenly and ran outside.

The Aurors wanted to chase them out, but Scrimgeour stopped them.

Blake ran wildly all the way like this, fell to the ground several times, ignored the pain at all, got up and continued to run.

But he was too thin and weak, so he fell to the ground again.

Blake lay there, clutching his chest filled with sad memories, making a hoarse whimpering sound, like a scarred... wild dog.

...

...

(Thanks to "Badger Le Xianzun" for the reward.)