"Maybe it's because her brain has already turned into one of those Ministry carrot stamps."
Cedric set down the quill in his hand and said with a laugh.
In that small—yet sohow spacious—office, the air was briefly filled with cheer.
And elsewhere…
"He wasn't hitting at all! He was hitting the authority of the Ministry! He was slapping your face!"
Inside the Minister of Magic's office, Fudge stared gloomily at the wailing Umbridge in front of him. The ashtray on his desk was already filled to the brim with cigarette butts.
He could now be said to be truly alone in the world. Aside from the idiot in front of him—no, that wasn't quite right, he shouldn't call her an idiot, she was his last remaining loyalist—he really had no one left.
By the end of this year… or maybe soti in the middle of next year, he would most likely be forced to step down.
When that happened, the entire wizarding world would elect a new Minister. Who would it be? Barty Crouch… Scrimgeour? Or perhaps even Dumbledore…
Who could say.
Before he could finish that line of thought, Umbridge's piercing sobs rang out again from across the desk.
"What is it now?" Fudge sighed.
"Minister… at this rate I simply can't get anything done!" Umbridge wailed.
Fudge rubbed his face helplessly with his hand. He had originally only wanted Umbridge to go and disgust Hogwarts a bit—pick faults here, stir trouble there—but who could have guessed that she would start by picking on the strongest one first?
She had absolutely zero awareness of her own capabilities.
And now she'd ended up like this, with him having to clean up after her.
Worse still, he had to clean this up. At this point, the only person under him who could still actually get anything done was probably Umbridge.
If even she left him, he might as well just sit tight and wait a year or two to retire. But if Umbridge could sohow complete her mission—say, force Hogwarts to back down, get Dumbledore to stand on his side—then maybe he could still make one last push…
Bullshit!
Fudge's mind was already slipping into madness, actually thinking he could use this kind of mutually destructive approach to make Dumbledore support him.
After all, Dumbledore wasn't a masochist… probably. Maybe.
But even if Dumbledore did have so kind of strange kink, this sort of stunt wasn't sothing Fudge was capable of pulling off.
And given Dumbledore's personality, if he were really pushed too far, the odds of him sending people to storm Fudge's house and kill him were far higher than the odds of him making concessions to help Fudge.
And so, inside that small office, two unhinged fools began devising an even more deranged and arrogant plan.
These two had no talent at all for rallying allies, but when it ca to fabricating charges, they were exceptionally skilled.
And so, a sche targeting the Weasley twins was freshly cooked up inside that tiny office. Calling it a "sche" was generous; it was nothing more than using the charge of assaulting a Ministry employee to force Hogwarts to expel the Weasley twins.
That was all. The accusation and the thod were laughably crude, and they targeted only the twins.
It wasn't that they didn't want to deal with Cedric as well. It was simply that Cedric had beco too conspicuous.
Ever since he won the Triwizard Tournant, his level of public exposure was basically on par with Harry Potter back when he'd just blasted Voldemort into oblivion.
If the Minister were to point the spear at Cedric now, he wouldn't need to wait a year or two—he'd be out of office imdiately.
As for Professor Kasenhis…
Well, he'd already lost an arm. If he lost another, Fudge would probably be one step closer to turning into a chanical T-rex.
"But… right, Minister," Umbridge said hesitantly. "Now that even the Board of Governors has abandoned us, how exactly are we supposed to… um… expel them?"
"If I have to solve everything myself, then what use are you?" Fudge snapped, clearly still not understanding his actual situation, falling back on the sa empty rhetoric as before.
But soon, Fudge saw Umbridge begin taking deep breaths—clearly charging up, ready to burst into another round of hysterical wailing.
That scared him enough to hurriedly raise a hand in a stopping gesture.
"Stop, stop… I'll think of a way," Fudge sighed.
Almost instantly, Umbridge pulled herself together and struck her usual pose, putting on that uniquely affected, girlish deanor of hers. The sight was like a shriveled mummy loosely wrapped in a layer of soft chicken skin, with a face painted on by a kindergarten-level artist using a one-cent watercolor set and a handful of rhinestones pried off old clothes.
"What thod?" she asked.
"I've thought about it," Fudge sighed. "Expelling them really is difficult, but we can make it impossible for them to attend classes normally. Sa old trick—Wizengamot summonses."
"But, Minister, when we go head-to-head with Hogwarts, especially at the Wizengamot, we don't exactly have a winning record," Umbridge frowned.
"Who told you to win?" Fudge said impatiently. "You just need to make sure they're constantly being summoned to the Wizengamot for trial. As long as Hogwarts professors show up, you drag things out, then concede, and then keep finding excuses to summon them again."
"That way, if those professors led by Dumbledore don't look after the Weasley brats, they'll lose the Weasley family's support, and we'll have a chance to show the Weasleys so 'favor'."
"And if they keep running around for the sake of the twins, they won't be able to teach properly. Then we'll see what they choose," Fudge said with a vicious grin, clearly very pleased with the sche he'd slapped together on the spot.
Across from him, Umbridge imdiately sidled up, clapping enthusiastically, her face practically glazed over with smug delight.
...
And at the sa ti…
Elsewhere…
Kasenhis sat in his office, looking at the two uninvited guests standing across from him.
"You're saying you want to take a leave of absence, go on a year-long magical trip, and do so market research while you're at it?"
The Weasley twins standing opposite him nodded vigorously.
____
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