Hearing this, Fudge couldn't even suppress the smile at the corners of his mouth.
He leaned back tactically on the sofa, as if thinking about that ancient Ring Marvolo Gaunt always kept on him—everyone knew the Gaunt Clan was a family with an ancient lineage, direct descendants of Slytherin himself.
Collected by the ancestors of the Gaunt family, then kept on his person day and night by the former-but-one Patriarch Marvolo Gaunt, that alone proved the Ring was no ordinary object.
Even as Minister of Magic, Fudge couldn't resist this temptation.
Right now he was practically itching to tear open the file envelope and have a good look at that Ring.
He sat there for quite a while before finally managing to suppress his joy.
He raised his head to look at Percy, half admiring, half satisfied, and said, "Percy…"
There was a strong, almost affectionate warmth in his tone.
"Yes, sir." Percy immediately leaned forward, assuming a listening posture.
"As you know, I've been short of a Minister's assistant lately. Unfortunately your seniority is still too shallow—you only just graduated from school."
Fudge pressed his hands together, resting them on his legs, crossed one leg over the other, and spoke.
While Percy's heart was pounding, Fudge spoke again.
"You've done well in the Sinix affair," he said. "Merit deserves reward, of course. I think the post of Minister's assistant should be given to you."
Percy's heart leapt with delight.
He immediately stood up and said excitedly, "Thank you for your trust, Minister, sir!"
"Eh." Fudge waved a hand, motioning Percy to sit, his face all calm and unbothered. "The Ministry of Magic nurtures; the individual performs."
Only, as he said this, Fudge's mind was still turning over that Ring of the Gaunt family.
...
Ever since term started, Hogwarts had been a bit dead and gloomy—but this atmosphere was limited to Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw; the Gryffindor students were not part of this.
After all, in Gryffindor there were the ultimate mood-makers who could get everyone going—the Weasley Twins.
The common room was noisy and boisterous; Fred and George were demonstrating the latest products from their joke shop.
"Headless Hat!" George hawked, while Fred waved a pointed hat decorated with pink feathers. "Two Galleons each… ladies and gents, watch this!"
Grinning, Fred jammed the hat onto his head. For a split second he just looked very silly, and then the hat and his head vanished together…
A few girls screamed, and everyone else burst out laughing.
"Hat off!" George called. Fred's hands groped around his shoulders for a moment; his head reappeared, and the pink-feathered hat was removed.
"How did you make that hat?" Hermione was very curious. She scrutinized Fred and George. "It's clearly some kind of Invisibility Spell, but extending the invisible area beyond the enchanted object itself is pretty clever… though I don't think the magic will last very long…"
"Louis XVI," Ron commented sharply. "This hat shouldn't be called Headless Hat; it should be called the Louis XVI Hat—you see, their heads have gone missing after all."
"Don't make that kind of joke!" Hermione warned Ron sternly, thumping the table.
"Why?" Ron scratched his head. He had no idea why a joke about King Louis XVI would make Hermione warn him like that.
"Because…" Hermione had intended to stay serious, but couldn't hold it in. She doubled over, clutching her stomach as she burst out laughing.
"What is it?" Ron asked curiously.
"Even a joke has to have a head, right?" Hermione said, laughing so hard she was clutching her sides.
Ron froze for a moment, then started laughing along with her.
"Look at this." Harry walked over with a newspaper and handed it to Hermione and Ron. "The Ministry of Magic has already taken action—they caught Sinix last night, that Director of the Law Enforcement Department who succeeded Aunt Burns's position."
"I've always wondered, why did Burns's aunt—Amelia Burns—stop being Director?" Ron said, smacking his lips as he held the paper.
"Probably for some unavoidable reason." Harry glanced around; seeing no one paying attention to them, he lowered his voice and said, "If I'm not mistaken, this Sinix is one of Fudge's people."
Ron shot Harry a disbelieving look.
"Then why would Fudge arrest him?"
"It's written right here." Harry pointed at the paper. "Look—you see? Under the leadership of Minister Fudge, they successfully uncovered Sinix's undercover identity; he's a vile Death Eater."
"Then that makes sense," Ron nodded. "I heard Dad talk about what kind of man Fudge is—he cares more about his political career than his own life. The moment there's the slightest hint of trouble, he legs it."
At lunch, Hermione got hold of the latest printed issue of the Prophet Daily.
The moment she opened it, her brows furrowed.
The students around them, who had also received newspapers, all gasped sharply the instant they unfolded theirs.
"I seriously suspect they've all sprung a leak," Ron muttered.
Harry didn't pay attention to the others; he merely raised his eyebrows and asked Hermione,
"What's up?"
Hermione spread the paper out on the table and pointed at ten black-and-white photographs that took up the entire front page—faces of nine Wizards and one Witch. Some were smirking silently, others were tapping the frame arrogantly with their fingers. Beneath each photo was the name and the crime for which they had been imprisoned in Azkaban.
Antonin Dolohov, a Wizard with a pale, twisted long face, gave the camera a cold grin. The caption beneath listed his crime: brutally murdering Gideon and Febian Prewett.
Augustus Lucrewood, a pockmarked man with greasy hair, leaned against the edge of the frame wearing a bored expression. His crime was leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to You-Know-Who.
Oh, Luke Wood…
Harry rolled his eyes; he truly couldn't forget that surname.
Luke Wood—that is, one of the professors of Ancient Magic was a Professor Luke Wood, and as for Professor Luke Wood's descendants…
They practically seemed born to become Dark Wizards.
And the next woman—
The moment he looked at the paper, her face leapt into Harry's vision. Her long black hair looked wild and dishevelled in the photograph, but Harry would bet that this slightly deranged crone must have been a stunning beauty when she was young.
Her eyes glared at the camera from under heavy lids, and a proud, contemptuous smile curled her thin lips, just like Sirius.
She still retained traces of handsomeness, but something—perhaps Azkaban—had already stolen most of her beauty.
Harry looked down at the caption beneath the photograph. It was her name: Bellatrix Lestrange—her crime was torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom, causing them permanent disability.
Minister Cornelius Fudge, in an interview in his office, confirmed that ten major criminals had escaped last night; he had already informed the Muggle Prime Minister about how dangerous the fugitives were.
"It is deeply regrettable," Fudge said. "The Ministry of Magic is doing its utmost to track down the fugitives' whereabouts and will inform the public as soon as there is any development—and he has already called 10 Downing Street to inform the Muggle Prime Minister of the danger and unpredictability of these fugitives."
"Muggles can catch them?" Ron asked skeptically.
"But it's still much better than them not knowing anything," Hermione shrugged. "I think there must be plenty of Wizards lurking now in Buckingham Palace and 10 Downing Street, trying to make sure these big shots don't get kidnapped by escaped Dark Wizards."
"The Ministry of Magic is really something." The twins crowded over, standing enthusiastically on either side behind Harry. "Look at that—seeing how bored we are at the start of term, they went and gave us a huge show on the very first day, didn't they?"
"What I really want to know is who actually let these Death Eaters out." Hermione propped her chin on one hand, thinking aloud. "Whoever it was, this is definitely part of a massive conspiracy!"
(Turns out it was a mycoplasma infection… that moxifloxacin was brutal. After taking it I felt much better, my throat stopped hurting, but my eyes still water a bit in bright light. A friend even asked if I'd written something really touching because I kept 'crying' while writing this chapter.)