Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 461: Fudge’s Concerns

Over the next half hour, the Top Box where they were sitting gradually filled up. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were clearly very important wizards, while Percy kept springing up from his seat repeatedly, as though his stool had suddenly sprouted a row of Porcupine quills.

The last person to enter was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and everyone stood up to greet him. But Fudge did something unexpected. He strode over to the front row as if he’d spotted an old friend and extended his hand warmly from a distance.

Percy looked ecstatic. With the adults on the other side and only a few children around, he felt distinctly important. Bill and Charlie were abroad, the others still attended Hogwarts, and he was the only one working at the Ministry of Magic. Could it be...

Percy’s heart began to race wildly, and he bowed, subconsciously extending his hand. He bent over too far, and his glasses slipped, tumbling to the ground.

But in the next moment, Fudge walked right past him, as if Percy were nothing more than a roadside statue or a Telephone Booth, without even sparing him a glance.

“Oh, Kyle! So glad to see you here,” Fudge exclaimed. He casually placed a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and gave it a firm pat, his tone much warmer than he’d used with others.

“How was your holiday?” he asked kindly.

“Great,” Kyle replied, catching his breath. “The Quidditch World Cup was very exciting.”

“Yes, I even reserved tickets for you, but Arthur got there first,” Fudge chuckled, casting a playful look at Mr. Weasley.

Mr. Weasley managed a stiff smile, feeling caught off guard. He had indeed mentioned Kyleʼs name when asking Ludo Bagman for the tickets, but Bagman hadn’t said anything about it.

“But anyway,” Fudge continued, “I was waiting all holiday for Albus’s owl, and you didn’t write me a single letter! Do you know what he’s been up to lately? And that potion... you know the one I mean—the one that can turn that rat back?”

Potion? Kyle quickly understood that Fudge was referring to the Mandrake Restorative Draught, which could restore Peter Pettigrew’s Animagus form.

No wonder Fudge was so enthusiastic. With the Quidditch World Cup, Crouch’s international reputation had skyrocketed, and it seemed that Fudge was feeling a bit threatened.

”Donʼt worry, Mr. Minister,” Kyle replied with a smile as he pieced it together. ”As far as I know, the Mandrake Restorative Draught was brewed a month ago, and there’s plenty of it. It’s all been used on the rat, so there shouldnʼt be any issues.”

”Iʼm relieved to hear that. Albus has never let me down,” said Fudge, though his expression quickly hardened. ”But you should have kept me informed. I thought I made it clear that the Ministry would do everything it could to assist you in this matter.”

”Perhaps Professor Dumbledore didn’t want to trouble you,” Kyle suggested. ”It’s no small feat to organize an event for a hundred thousand wizards.”

”Albus is quite something,” Fudge muttered, pretending to be annoyed. ”True, things have been rather chaotic, but I’ve been setting time aside for him, even canceling several important meetings to wait for his owl.”

Meetings? More like parties, Kyle thought, though he kept his expression neutral and joined Fudge in lightly criticizing Dumbledore’s distant attitude, which seemed to put Fudge in an even better mood.

Then Fudge introduced Kyle to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, who was nearby in an elaborate velvet robe trimmed with gold. Unfortunately, the Bulgarian Minister didn’t appear to understand a word Fudge was saying, even as Fudge used hand gestures to emphasize “youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin.”

However, the Bulgarian Minister’s gaze eventually fell on Harry’s forehead, and his eyes lit up as he pointed excitedly at Harry’s scar, muttering rapidly in his native language.

”Oh yes, Harry Potter...” Fudge said, moving over to shake Harryʼs hand warmly, almost like a proud father. ”You know, he’s the boy who survived You-Know-Who’s attack.”

The Bulgarian Minister said something else in his language, leaving everyone baffled, and Harry felt utterly bewildered, unsure why he had been pulled over at all.

”Iʼm not very good with languages,” Fudge whispered to Harry and Kyle. ”Usually in these situations, youʼd have Barty Crouch to help. But he’s not here right now, though I see his House-elf has saved his seat. Thoughtful of him... Ah, here comes Lucius.”

At that moment, three more people entered the box: Lucius Malfoy, his son Draco, and a woman.

”Minister Fudge,” Lucius greeted, coming forward and extending his hand. ”This is my wife, Narcissa, and our son, Draco.”

”Hello,” Fudge replied, smiling and nodding toward Mrs. Malfoy, then introducing them to the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. However, the language barrier made the interaction a bit awkward, as the two could not understand each other.

Lucius then noticed Mr. Weasley nearby and, as though seeing something absurd, sneered, ”Well, Arthur, what did you have to sell to secure seats in the Top Box? Surely your limited means couldnʼt cover this.”

”I nearly forgot—you two know each other,” Fudge said cheerfully. ”Lucius recently made a substantial donation to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He’s my guest of honor.”

”Oh… thatʼs wonderful,” Mr. Weasley replied, barely concealing his distaste.

Lucius’s gaze then drifted to Hermione, and he whispered something to Narcissa. Mrs. Malfoy instantly looked disgusted, as though she’d caught a whiff of something foul. Her reaction mirrored her earlier disdain when she had seen Winky, as if Hermione, being Muggle-born, was on the same level as a House-elf. However, in the presence of the Minister of Magic, neither Malfoy dared say anything inappropriate, and they took their seats in silence.

Draco made a half-hearted attempt to greet Kyle, but Narcissa quickly pulled him back, while Lucius looked on approvingly.

“What a nuisance,” Ron muttered as he, Harry, and Hermione turned back to the arena, diverting their attention with their newly bought Omnioculars to study the crowd across the stadium.

Then Ludo Bagman burst into the box, his round face beaming like a giant ball of cheese.

”Is everyone ready?” he asked. ”Minister... shall we begin?”

”Whenever youʼre ready, Ludo,” Fudge said eagerly. ”Iʼm looking forward to a good match.”

”You wonʼt be disappointed,” Ludo replied, drawing his wand and pointing it at his throat. ”Sonorus,” he intoned, and his voice boomed across the stadium, echoing off the packed stands.

For a moment, his amplified voice filled the entire stadium.

“Ladies and gentlemen... welcome!”