Capítulo 67: All Eyes on....

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Who am I?

Where am I?

Who are those?

What is happening here?

Fudge was in full panic mode. One moment, he was approving documents, and the next, chaos had erupted around him. How had things escalated so quickly?

As he stood there bewildered, Dolores Umbridge, ever eager to please, rushed forward with a stack of newspapers fresh off the press. She handed them to Fudge, her face twitching with nervousness.

Fudge's eyes scanned the headlines, and suddenly, the world seemed to tilt. His vision blurred for a moment. "Scrimgeour, what have you done?" he thought.

Did Scrimgeour honestly believe he could just capture this boy without consequences? Dyroth Grindelwald wasn't just anyone—he had influence. The Saint's group was growing in power throughout Britain, and behind him stood prominent pure-blood families like the Malfoys.

Even worse, Dyroth had also the sympathy of ordinary wizards. The whole situation was a ticking time bomb.

Fudge gripped the edge of his desk, trying to steady himself.

"Everyone, please, let's stay calm. This is all just a misunderstanding," Fudge stammered.

"Misunderstanding?" a witch shouted from the group that had gathered in his office. "What kind of misunderstanding leads to an eleven-year-old being hauled off to the Ministry?"

Another voice piped up, this time from a wizard standing near the back. "If there hadn't been witnesses, would the Ministry have thrown him straight into Azkaban?"

"No, no!" Fudge shook his head quickly. "Scrimgeour simply brought him in for questioning. Once the truth comes to light, Mr. Grindelwald will be released safely."

"Questioning?" the witch snapped back. "Is that what you call it when you send Aurors to drag him away? And threaten his life in the process? Do you think we're blind?"

"If the British Ministry of Magic doesn't offer a proper explanation, we'll escalate this to the International Confederation of Wizards," someone added.

The threat of international involvement made Fudge break out in a sweat. He wiped his forehead furiously with a handkerchief.

"Please, believe me, we'll get to the bottom of this," he pleaded, turning to Umbridge. "What are you waiting for? Send someone to Scrimgeour. Tell him to bring Mr. Grindelwald out at once!"

"Mr. Minister, it's not that simple," Umbridge said, her voice quivering. "The Ministry is surrounded by wizards. There's chaos outside, and all our staff are busy keeping order. I don't have anyone to send!"

Fudge felt his temper rise. "Then go yourself! Or are you completely useless?"

Umbridge flinched, then hurried out of the office. She hadn't even made it to the door when several figures strode in, their presence demanding attention.

"Why are you here?" Arthur Weasley frowned as he entered with Lucius Malfoy who was followed by several other prominent pure-bloods. Lucius glanced around, his sneer evident. "Do I need to report my arrival to you now, Weasley?" he asked with disdain.

Arthur ignored him, focusing on Fudge. "We're here to check on Mr. Grindelwald," he said directly.

Lucius, however, wasn't interested in pleasantries. His gaze swept over the room as he entered with the other pure-blood heads of families, including Parkinson, Greengrass, and Nott. The power they collectively held was palpable, and Fudge's unease grew.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Greengrass, Mr. Nott... what brings you all here?" Fudge's voice wavered.

"You know very well what brings us here," Lucius said coldly. "We've come to ensure the safety of Mr. Grindelwald."

Fudge gulped. The previous group of wizards had been trouble, but this group—pure-blood elites—could ruin him politically. Each one of them had enough influence to threaten his position as Minister of Magic.

"Of course, there's no need to worry. Mr. Grindelwald was only brought in for questioning. I was just about to send someone to check on him," Fudge said, trying to sound reassuring. But it came out too enthusiastic, too desperate.

"That's good to hear," Mrs. Molly Weasley said icily, her eyes filled with disapproval. She had no patience for Scrimgeour's methods and detested his ruthless tactics, even if they were directed at dark wizards.

"Minister Fudge, if you don't mind, we'd like to see Mr. Grindelwald ourselves," Lucius added. "We just need to confirm his safety."

Fudge hesitated. "This... well, the Ministry of Magic isn't exactly open for visitors at the moment..."

Arthur Weasley, sensing the tension, offered to go in Umbridge's place. "I'll check on him," he said.

But Fudge shook his head quickly. He wasn't about to send Arthur—if anything went wrong, the Weasleys would have no buffer. He needed someone loyal to ensure things didn't get out of hand.

"Arthur, Umbridge will handle it," Fudge said, cutting him off. Arthur started to argue, but Lucius intervened.

"Minister Fudge," Lucius said smoothly, "I think Mr. Weasley should go. Umbridge may not have the authority to control Scrimgeour if things go sideways."

Fudge stood firm. "Trust me, Mr. Malfoy, the Ministry will handle this."

At that moment, a sharp voice interrupted the conversation. "Handle this? You mean like the way you're planning to imprison this boy in the trial room as if he's a dark wizard?"

All eyes turned to see Professor McGonagall striding toward the office, her eyes blazing with fury. Behind her, Dumbledore and the other Hogwarts heads of house approached.

Fudge's heart sank. Things were about to get much worse.