There were only two people left in the Minister's office now.
Umbridge had tried to stay and listen in, but under the quiet, unblinking weight of Dumbledore's gaze, her nerve had crumbled. She'd withdrawn with a face full of barely concealed resentment, pulling the door shut behind her.
Fudge could tell well enough that Dumbledore hadn't come in a pleasant mood. What he couldn't understand was why.
Harry Potter was fine. The other students were unharmed. If anything, it was the Dementors who had taken a beating. So what exactly was there to be angry about?
And yet the anger was unmistakably there, radiating off the old man in quiet, steady waves. Fudge felt his stomach tighten. He forced a smile onto his face.
"Albus, you've come back so soon. I take it you haven't found Grindelwald yet?"
"He has always been exceptionally difficult to track." Dumbledore gave Fudge a small, measured nod and settled himself into the chair across the desk without waiting for an invitation. "I had intended to remain in North America for some time to continue the search. But who could have anticipated that in fewer than twenty-four hours after my departure, Hogwarts would find itself facing a crisis."
"Crisis?" The word made Fudge flinch. "No, no, no, it wasn't nearly that serious, Albus. The Dementors simply... they were simply agitated at having failed to locate Lestrange and Lockhart, and with no prisoners available to feed from in the meantime, they strayed toward the castle. That's all it was."
"A very thorough excuse."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Cornelius, there are many things I am willing to compromise on. I understand the pressures of managing an institution as vast as the Ministry of Magic, and I have always tried to be sympathetic to the difficulties of your position. But the moment students are involved, none of that goodwill applies."
"The fact of the matter is that a student came very close to losing their life because of those Dementors."
"Albus, that was a possibility, not something that actually occurred."
"I would prefer that the possibility never arise again." Dumbledore's voice dropped, steady and quiet as stone settling. "For as long as students are within the walls of Hogwarts, I have an obligation to protect them. Whoever they may be. I ask only that this be the last time. Are we understood?"
Fudge felt something hot and suffocating press against the inside of his chest.
Who did Dumbledore think he was, lecturing him like this? Giving orders as though Fudge were a first-year student rather than the Minister for Magic?
But as much as the fury churned inside him, Fudge knew better than to let it show. Grindelwald's escape had transformed Dumbledore's political worth almost overnight. Particularly after the incident in the Wizengamot, the public had developed a far sharper appreciation for just how powerful a Dark wizard Grindelwald truly was. The idea that only Dumbledore could stand against him had taken firm root, and these days there was a steady procession of foreign Ministers for Magic all but queuing up to curry favour with the man.
Fudge had even begun to wonder, in his darker moments, whether Grindelwald's escape had been engineered by the two of them together, a coordinated play to seize control of the wizarding world.
If he turned Dumbledore against him now, there would be no shortage of people ready to tear him apart in the press.
So. He would endure.
"Albus, I truly am sorry." Fudge arranged his features into something that looked remarkably close to genuine remorse. "It was the Ministry's negligence, and I take full responsibility for what nearly happened to Harry Potter. I can promise you nothing of this sort will happen again. Had you not come today, I was already on the verge of sending them a formal warning."
Dumbledore had no particular interest in whether Fudge was telling the truth. He was here for a specific outcome, and he intended to get it.
"Cornelius, don't you find the continued presence of the Dementors rather unnecessary at this point? There is no evidence to suggest that Lockhart or Lestrange have come anywhere near Hogwarts. Term has been underway for over two months, and neither of them has been spotted in the vicinity once. Meanwhile, there have been sightings of individuals resembling them in Yorkshire, which happens to be the location of the Lestrange family's ancestral estate."
Fudge caught the implication immediately. His brow furrowed. "You're suggesting... a full withdrawal of the Dementors?"
"It does seem like an elegant solution." Dumbledore smiled for the first time since entering the room. "After all, Azkaban is where Dementors truly belong."
Fudge turned it over in silence for a moment, then gave his assent.
In truth, the idea of pulling the Dementors back had already been raised by several parties. The Ministry officials who also happened to be parents of Hogwarts students had been particularly vocal about it. Scrimgeour, too, had argued that the two fugitives would never walk into an obvious trap; that they would only dare to move if the Ministry appeared to have grown complacent, or abandoned the watch entirely. The idea was to stop hunting and let the prey come to you.
Dumbledore's proposal gave Fudge the perfect cover to do what had already been quietly discussed, and he took it.
Besides, the fugitives had been at large for so long now without a single confirmed sighting that the public's fear had gradually dimmed. Fudge saw little point in stoking anxieties that had already begun to cool on their own.
Having achieved what he came for, Dumbledore had no interest in pressing further. He rose and took his leave.
At the door, he paused and turned back, his expression one of mild, almost paternal concern.
"Cornelius, I feel I should mention, Mr. Riddle places a great deal of importance on the safety of those he holds dear. He has already made his displeasure known to me. So... I would prepare yourself, if I were you. He is considerably less easy to manage than I am."
And with that, Dumbledore opened the door and walked out, leaving Fudge staring after him in stunned silence.
It was a long moment before Fudge came back to himself. When he did, his hand came down on the desk again, sharp with fury.
You insufferable Hogwarts people, he thought, seething. Form a queue to come and lecture me, why don't you! And not a single one of you is going to compensate me for those hundred-odd Dementors!
But for all his irritation, Fudge didn't take Dumbledore's parting warning to heart. He'd dealt with Riddle on several occasions, and each encounter had been, on balance, rather pleasant. He considered the two of them to have something of a rapport. At worst, the boy would come to grumble at him for a bit.
Fudge was wrong about that.
Tom was the great serpent of Slytherin, and he had already opened his mouth wide. He would not close it again until he had torn a piece of flesh from Cornelius Fudge.
And this had nothing to do with justice for the young witches who had been endangered. In the situation as it had unfolded, the Dementors had never had a real chance of hurting them. No, this was purely and simply about what Tom stood to gain.