"There was no hurricane at all."
Foggy said bitterly.
"What did you say!" The Prime Minister roared, stamping his foot. "Trees uprooted, roofs torn off, road signs bent, a lot of people killed —"
"It's all the work of the Death Eaters," Foggy said. "They're the followers of that devil whose name must not be mentioned. Also … we suspect that the giant was involved. "
The Prime Minister stopped dead in his tracks, as if he had run into an invisible wall.
"Involved in what?"
Foggy grimaced.
"Last time he used the giant to make a big deal out of it.
Now the people in the Error Information Office are working overtime, and we've sent out several groups of Memory Injectors to alter the memories of all the Muggle who saw what happened with their own eyes.
Most of the staff from the Department of Magical Animal Control have been sent to Somerset, where they've been searching, but they haven't been able to find the giant — what a disaster. "
"That's impossible!" said the Prime Minister angrily.
"I won't deny that the Ministry is in a state of panic and low morale," said Foggy.
Foggy said, "That's not all. Then Amelia Burns went missing."
"Who disappeared?"
"Amelia Burns, Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
We believe that the Devil, whose name shall not be mentioned, killed her with his own hands because she was a very talented witch, and all the signs showed that she had struggled to resist. "
Foggy cleared his throat and, with what seemed like an effort, stopped twirling his bowler hat.
"But the papers reported the murder," said the Prime Minister.
Forgetting his anger for a moment, the Prime Minister said, "Our papers.
Amelia Burns … said she was a single, middle-aged woman. It was a vicious murder, wasn't it?
It was all over the place, and the police didn't know where to start. "
Foggy sighed. "Well, that's only natural. She was killed in a room that was locked from the inside, wasn't she?
We know exactly who did it, but that won't help us catch the guy.
And Emmeline Vance, you may not have heard — "
"Of course I have!"
Said the Prime Minister. "As a matter of fact, it happened in a corner not far from here, and the papers made a big deal of it: in the Prime Minister's back court--"
"As if this isn't bad enough," Foggy said, ignoring the prime minister's words. "Now there are dementors everywhere, attacking people at any time..."
In the carefree days of the past, the Prime Minister would have found this difficult to understand, but now he knew many things.
"I remember that the Soul Catchers are guarding the prisoners of Azkaban?"
"It used to be," said Foggy wearily. "Not anymore. They left the prison and sought refuge with the devil whose name they could not even mention. I have to admit, this is really a disaster falling from the sky. "
"But," said the Prime Minister, a dread creeping into his heart, "you told me that they were creatures designed to suck away hope and happiness?"
"That's right. And they're still multiplying, which is why this fog is formed. "
The Prime Minister's knees buckled and he sank into the nearest chair.
He felt himself about to faint at the thought of these invisible creatures flitting about town and country, spreading pessimism and despair among his constituents.
"Listen to me, Foggy — you must do something! This is your duty as Minister of Magic! "
"My dear Prime Minister, after all this has happened, do you really think I can still be Minister of Magic?
I stepped down three days ago, and the whole Wizard world has been clamoring for my resignation for two weeks.
I've been in charge for so many years, but I've never seen them so united! "
Foggy said, forcing a smile.
The Prime Minister was speechless for a moment. He was indignant at being put in such a situation, and at the same time sympathetic to the shriveled man sitting opposite him.
"I am very sorry," he said at last. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Thank you for your kindness, Prime Minister, but there is nothing more. I have been sent this evening to inform you of the latest developments and to introduce you to my successor. I thought he would have arrived by now. Of course, he has his hands full with all that has happened. "
Foggy turned his head to look at the ugly little man in the portrait in the long silver wig who was picking at his ear with the tip of a quill.
The man in the portrait saw that Foggy was looking at him and said, "He will be here in a moment. He is writing to Dumbledore and will be finished soon. "
"I wish him luck," Foggy said bitterly.
"I have been writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past two weeks, but he will not change his mind.
If he will persuade the boy, I am afraid I can … Well, maybe Scrimgeour will have it easier than I do. "
Foggy fell into a plainly aggrieved silence, but the man in the portrait broke it at once and spoke suddenly in a clear, bureaucratic voice.
"To Prime Minister Muggle.
Request for a meeting.
Urgent matter, please reply at once.
Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic. "
"Yes, yes, yes."
The Prime Minister said irritably. The flames in the grate turned emerald green again, and a second Wizard appeared in the midst of them, whirling.
He turned for a moment and stepped out onto the antique carpet.
The Prime Minister watched without showing any fear. Foggy stood up. The Prime Minister hesitated a moment, then stood up as well. He watched the newcomer straighten up, brush the ashes from his black robe, and look around.
The absurd idea struck the Prime Minister that Rufus Scrimgeour looked like an old lion.
His tawny hair and bushy eyebrows were streaked with grey, his sharp yellow eyes behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, and despite his slight limp, there was an easy stride in his gait that suggested at once that he was a keen, tough fellow.
The Prime Minister thought he could well understand why the Wizard world wanted Scrimgeour, and not Foggy, to be their leader in these dangerous times.
"How do you do?"
Said the Prime Minister politely, holding out his hand.
Scrimgeour shook the Prime Minister's hand hastily, his eyes darting about the room, and then he drew a wand from his robe.
"Has Foggy told you all about it?"
He asked, striding to the door and striking the lock with the wand, the Prime Minister heard the lock click.
"Well — yes," said the Prime Minister.
"If you don't mind, I should prefer not to lock the door."
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
