章節 132: 132: Ministry of Magic’s apology
Harry was sent to the hospital wing, but the matter wasn't over yet.
Dumbledore hurried down, staring at the Dementors trapped in the Patronus water prison. In his eyes, John saw an anger he had never seen before.
The "White Lord" was truly furious.
One hundred Dementors charging into the Quidditch pitch—what a terrifying disaster that could have been.
"I need to find Cornelius Fudge. John, please keep these Dementors under control," Dumbledore said to John.
John nodded, though some of the more daring students were trying to approach.
Feeling a bit of a headache, John used his wand to control the water prison, attempting to move it elsewhere.
Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall joined in to help. Their eyes were filled with both fear and anger—how dare the Ministry gamble with the safety of the students?
"I will definitely be filing a complaint against those people!" Professor McGonagall's face was pale as she spoke fiercely. "Mr. Wick, thank you for stepping in and spotting the danger in time."
Professor Flitwick, his voice thin but trembling with excitement, praised John greatly. "Absolutely brilliant, John Wick! A Patronus combined with a water prison—what a genius idea."
As the Charms professor, Flitwick was immensely proud.
"Where should we move this thing to?" John asked, somewhat concerned. "I mean, I might not be able to move it very far."
John's magic crystal was continuously depleting, and this thing wasn't a Philosopher's Stone—once used up, it would become useless. The materials for one magic crystal alone cost hundreds of Galleons, which made John feel a sharp pain in his wallet.
Professor McGonagall suggested placing the Dementors in the dungeons—not the Slytherin one, but Hogwarts' own underground chambers.
The Dementors struggled, trying to escape, but the three of them managed to subdue them and send them to the dungeon.
After everything was done, John's arm felt a bit sore.
He glanced at the ring on his right hand.
Earlier, he had secretly absorbed quite a bit of the curses from the twenty or so Dementors. The black patterns on the ring were now even more pronounced.
Without drawing attention, he silently retracted the black threads that had been attached to the water prison. The Dementors all appeared listless.
Professor McGonagall simply assumed it was the result of the suppression from the Patronus Charm.
Later that evening, people from the Ministry of Magic rushed over, led by none other than Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic.
An old acquaintance was also present—Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror Office.
They hurried in, and John could tell from Fudge's pale face that he wasn't doing well. A trembling handkerchief was wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
Fudge was clearly terrified.
The Dementors were not to enter the School borders. He had never expected the Dementors to invade Hogwarts—a school backed by every wizarding family in Britain.
If the wizarding families found out about this incident, they would likely unite to protest against Cornelius Fudge as the Minister for Magic.
Fudge was scared. He had grown accustomed to the power he had worked so hard to obtain.
John watched as Fudge hurried into the headmaster's office, and shortly after, John received a notice asking him to come to the office as well.
Upon entering the office, John saw Dumbledore's face—this was the angriest and most serious he had ever seen the headmaster.
When Fudge spotted John, his eyes lit up, and he moved surprisingly fast for someone of his size, rushing over and excitedly grabbing John's hand, shaking it vigorously.
"You must be John Wick, the one who stopped the Dementors?"
"I cannot thank you enough! You prevented a tragedy and, at the same time, saved the reputation of the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry will not forget your service," Fudge said, extending an olive branch with a beaming smile, though the sweat on the tip of his nose was close to dripping off.
"If you're willing, I can send you an invitation after you graduate. The Ministry needs talents like you," he added, all the while sneaking glances at Dumbledore.
It seemed that recruiting John might not be the real goal—winning over Dumbledore was likely the true aim.
Rufus Scrimgeour, standing nearby, remained calm, ignoring Fudge's maneuverings.
John glanced at Dumbledore, and on the headmaster's face, he saw a deep look of disappointment directed at Fudge.
Fudge had made a mistake. If he truly cared about the wizarding world, Dumbledore would have been his greatest ally.
Unfortunately, everything Fudge did was only to preserve his own power. His attempts to evade responsibility were enough to warrant Dumbledore's disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Minister, but the Headmaster wanted to speak with me," John said with a perfect fake smile, pulling his hand away from Fudge's grasp.
He walked over to Dumbledore, who shifted his gaze to John with a look of approval. "John, we need you to describe everything that happened," Dumbledore said.
John nodded and calmly recounted the events—from when he first noticed the Dementors storming the Quidditch pitch, to how he subdued them. His expression remained composed throughout, as though what he did wasn't anything extraordinary.
Fudge's face darkened with each word, and John didn't mind adding one final blow.
"I think the Dementors might have been drawn to the joyful atmosphere of the Quidditch match and were unable to suppress their natural instincts," he said in a calm tone.
Leaving the students' safety to Dementors was like leaving a hungry cat to guard fish.
Dumbledore nodded slightly and turned his gaze toward Fudge.
At this point, John's involvement was over. What followed was practically a scolding from Dumbledore, leaving Fudge humiliated and at a loss for words.
In the end, the meeting ended on a sour note, with both sides parting in frustration. John took in everything with sharp eyes, and a gleam appeared in his gaze.
'This is an opportunity.'
Fudge was far too incompetent, even a hindrance, especially after Voldemort's resurrection, where he made things worse at every turn.
Given this, John began to wonder if he could find a way to bring the Minister down ahead of time.
Rufus Scrimgeour didn't face any blame for the incident. His stance had always been clear—using Aurors to control the Dementors. Unfortunately, Fudge saw this as a threat to his authority, so he never gave Scrimgeour the chance.
After this incident, John knew his opportunity had arrived.
He sent out over a dozen letters, each one reaching someone from a prominent pure-blood family or an influential figure. Once they all spoke out in unison, even if the Minister hadn't made any mistakes, he would still have a headache. And now, Fudge was clearly at fault.
...
The next day.
The Dementors were taken away, though the twenty-some Dementors seemed far less lively than before. Some even appeared to be wearing smaller robes, as if they had shrunk.
Rufus Scrimgeour coordinated their removal with Professor McGonagall. He assured her that the Dementors would be punished accordingly.
His words carried confidence, as Lord Johnny Silverhand had promised to help him.
That night, after leaving Hogwarts with Fudge, they soon saw Fudge being urgently called back to his office.
Not long after, the sound of Fudge's furious outburst and things being smashed echoed from his office.
It must have been Lord Johnny Silverhand making his move.
Scrimgeour was quite pleased. He had been fed up with Fudge for a long time. After all, who wouldn't want to be in charge, rather than constantly being overshadowed by someone else?
Harry hadn't woken up yet. He had fallen from a height of at least 50 feet. Even though he didn't hit the ground, falling that much can mess up your brain.
That evening, John looked up at the sky.
After the storm, the sky was clear, with a full moon hanging like a jade plate above.
The time had come.
John took out a mandrake leaf and placed it in his mouth.
Thus began his journey to become an Animagus!
Though he couldn't speak during this process, John had a solution.
He pulled out his wand and waved it through the air, leaving behind red sparks that hovered in place.
A symbol appeared.
He could use this to communicate with others.
As for why he couldn't speak, he could simply claim that he overexerted his magic the day before, causing his throat to swell.
In the magical world, there were all sorts of odd conditions—this explanation wouldn't raise too much suspicion.
After the full moon passed, Harry finally woke up.
He was heartbroken, feeling guilty that the team had lost because of him.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, especially for Wood. He stood in the rain, feeling like he wanted to drown himself.
It was Wood's final year, and despite his passion for Quidditch, he had never managed to lift the championship cup.
Harry thought this was bad enough, but life always had a way of getting worse.
His Nimbus 2000 had been blown into the Whomping Willow, which promptly smashed the broom to pieces.
The companion that had been with him for three years was now gone, leaving Harry in an even worse mood.
A steady stream of people came to visit Harry, and John also brought him a box of Cockroach Clusters.
"John, what's wrong?" Hermione asked curiously, noticing that John hadn't said a word the entire time.
John pointed to his throat, then used the hovering marks to reveal the excuse he had prepared.
Upon hearing that it was because he had overexerted himself while saving him that day, Harry felt even more guilty.
_________
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