0445 Honors?

Bryan’s idea was already quite clear. He wanted to pin this attack on those fanatic group of dark wizards who initiated it out of twisted sense of worship for the long-vanquished Dark Lord. These people pretended to be ‘Death Eaters’ and attacked the stadium. And this was the cleverest part, because telling the British wizarding community that the real Death Eaters were becoming active again would have immeasurable far-reaching consequences.

As for Fudge, he needed to find the culprit to let the Ministry of Magic have an explanation on the whole affair, so Bryan gave it to him.

After all, according to the law, the underground bounty witch captured by Bryan would need to spend a lifetime in Azkaban anyway. Now she would just do so under a different name.

However, there was an obvious flaw in Bryan’s plan. Fudge, who had now calmed down and mentally reviewed the entire plan, immediately noticed it. This flaw could potentially turn the Ministry of Magic into a complete laughingstock.

Fudge’s broad forehead, already glistening with a sheen of nervous sweat, furrowed deeply as he voiced his concern. “Having the Wizengamot try the witch who dueled with you, then sending her to Azkaban and ordering the Dementors to keep her in solitary confinement – that’s all within our capabilities, Bryan,” he began, his voice tinged with anxiety. “But there’s a rather significant problem we need to address.”

Fudge paused, dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief before continuing. “What if, after we’ve gone through all this trouble, after we’ve put on this show for the public, someone identical appears out there again? What then?!”

Bryan’s response was immediate and blunt. “If another one really does show up, Minister,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of firmness, “it would merely be a poor imitator. If people become confused at that time, I’ll provide an explanation. My word, as the one who defeated her, will be unquestionable.”

Fudge’s face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. He happily slapped the table with his uninjured hand, wincing slightly at the impact but too elated to care. “Oh, that’s it! A perfect plan!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with relief and admiration. “Yes, No one could be more authoritative than you in confirming that witch’s identity, Bryan. After all, you defeated her, and you still have her Staff in your hands!”

As their in-depth discussion concluded, Fudge felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The pressure that had been crushing him mere moments ago now seemed to dissipate like morning mist. He knew that making this lie acceptable would require keeping quite a few people’s mouths shut, but it was ultimately a clear path forward. It would require effort, certainly, but it was far preferable to the alternative of admitting the truth and facing the ensuing panic.

Fudge’s mind wandered, reflecting on recent events. This was the second time Bryan Watson had used his intellect to rescue the Ministry of Magic from the brink of collapse. Moreover, tonight he had directly saved the lives of tens of thousands of wizards.

Well, that wasn’t quite accurate to say, Fudge realized. He had been in the VIP box too, witnessing the whole affair unfold before his very eyes. If Bryan hadn’t suddenly appeared, that mysterious witch would have probably left after kidnapping Harry Potter, and the subsequent duel wouldn’t have happened at all. 

This was very awkward! On one hand, the Ministry of Magic owed Bryan Watson an enormous debt of gratitude. His quick thinking and magical prowess had undoubtedly prevented a potential catastrophe. On the other hand, the sheer power that Bryan Watson possessed was now a source of extreme vigilance and discomfort for the Ministry.

This young and formidable wizard didn’t seem to be cut from the same cloth as Dumbledore. He was aggressive and unlike Dumbledore, didn’t strictly adhere to principles. Dealing with such a unique and potentially volatile individual required careful handling – they couldn’t afford to offend him, yet they must remain on guard at all times.

With an uncertain solution to the most troublesome issue at hand, Fudge finally turned his full attention to Bryan. The young wizard stood before him, his posture relaxed yet somehow still emanating an aura of barely contained power.

Fudge opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for words. Once again, he looked to Dumbledore for help, his eyes pleading silently. This time, however, Dumbledore pretended not to notice, his twinkling blue eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the office walls.

“Ahem-” Fudge cleared his throat awkwardly.

He immediately realized that Dumbledore had no intention of intervening this time. Everything was up to him now. Fudge clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white with the effort, and cleared his throat twice more. He then put on what he hoped was a warm, grateful for Bryan, though it came across as more of a nervous grimace.

“You’ve helped the Ministry of Magic again, Bryan,” Fudge began, his voice wavering slightly before steadying. “You’ve guided the British wizarding world through yet another major crisis. I… I don’t know how to thank you properly!”

Bryan returned the minister’s awkward smile with a polite one of his own, his piercing gaze never wavering. “You’re too kind, Minister,” he replied smoothly, his voice carrying just a hint of amusement. “This is simply what I should do, I’d be immensely grateful if you could just ensure that Headmaster Dumbledore doesn’t confine me to Hogwarts and forbid me from going out-“

Fudge’s face immediately turned a deep shade of purple at Bryan’s words. He stuttered, unable to form a coherent response, while even Dumbledore gave a wry smile upon hearing Bryan speak so boldly.

“Ahem, you surely know this is just a joke, Bryan,” Fudge finally managed to say, struggling to suppress his embarrassment. His mind raced, frantically searching for a way to continue the conversation without losing face. “No one could imprison a hero who saved the entire wizarding world-“

He paused, wracking his brains for something, anything, to say next. Suddenly, an idea struck him. “I bet, Bryan, that your photo will be on the front page of the Daily Prophet for the next month, at least! Topics about you won’t fade until Christmas, I’m sure. People will discuss every single thing that happens to you with bated breath.”

Fudge’s voice grew more confident as he continued, “Of course, the Ministry will also honor you officially – a First Class Order of Merlin, I’m absolutely certain I can get that approved for you without any trouble at all.”

Bryan’s smile widened slightly, a glimmer of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Oh, I already have that honor, Minister,” he replied smoothly, looking at Fudge with an intrigued expression that made him squirm uncomfortably. “It was awarded to me when I took down Fenrir Greyback, if you recall.”

“Oh, is that so? Ahem, I mean-” Fudge’s throat suddenly felt as if it were filled with the stench of a thousand dungbombs, making him cough continuously. He tugged at his collar, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. “Of course, I remember that! How could I forget?”

As Fudge struggled to regain his composure, his mind raced. Although if Bryan hadn’t appeared tonight, the later duel that could have affected everyone wouldn’t have happened at all, he knew that ordinary people wouldn’t think of that. They would only believe that if it weren’t for Bryan Watson, the international audience at the Quidditch World Cup Final would have suffered heavy casualties.

It would be inexcusable for the Ministry of Magic, let alone the International Confederation of Wizards, not to honor Bryan Watson in some significant way. But what could the Ministry of Magic offer to truly thank Bryan Watson, a wizard who seemed to have everything already?

Honor? Bryan already had a First-Class Order of Merlin, the highest honor the wizarding world could bestow.

Wealth? When Bryan took down Greyback, many famous companies had approached him, willing to offer astronomical sums just to have him endorse their products. But Bryan had refused them all without exception, seemingly uninterested in material gain. Besides, merely offering money to appease Bryan Watson would not only potentially anger him but also be unacceptable to the wizarding public. They would see it as an insult to their hero.

Power? Bryan was already essentially the second-in-command at Hogwarts after Dumbledore, wielding considerable influence over the next generation of witches and wizards. He was also a senior advisor to the Ministry of Magic. If they wanted to give more real power to a wizard with such distinguished merits as Bryan, it would have to be at least a department head or deputy minister position. But this was precisely what Fudge was most reluctant to do, fearing the concentration of too much influence in the hands of this powerful young wizard.

The deeper Fudge delved into this issue, the more desperate he felt.

He couldn’t force Dumbledore to step down and make Bryan Watson the headmaster of Hogwarts… Although, come to think of it, Dumbledore had indeed reached retirement age. And having these two simultaneously at Hogwarts wasn’t a good choice either. If they decided to scheme something together… With Dumbledore’s wisdom and unparalleled prestige combined with the power Bryan had demonstrated, plus the intelligence of both men, the Ministry would be utterly powerless to resist.

Knock, knock, knock-

Suddenly, a series of urgent knocks sounded from outside the office, cutting through the tension. Under normal circumstances, such a confidential meeting would never allow interruptions. The wards and charms placed on the Minister’s office should have prevented anyone from even approaching the door uninvited. But at this moment, the heavy knocking sounded like heavenly music to Fudge’s ears, making him overjoyed at the prospect of a distraction from his current predicament.

Although separated by the thick door, both Bryan and Dumbledore had already sensed who the visitor was. Dumbledore’s brow furrowed slightly, the twinkle in his blue eyes dimming for a moment. Bryan, listening to the persistent, impolite knocking, lowered his gaze, a fleeting coldness passing through his eyes like a shadow across the sun.

“Who is it?” Fudge stood up abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair in his haste. His expression and tone were much lighter now, almost jovial. “Come in directly!”

Whoosh-

The door was pushed open at once, the heavy wood swinging inward with surprising force. The newcomer’s pale, pointed face was painted with carefully prepared anger, his grey eyes flashing with indignation. However, when he discovered that the office contained not only Cornelius Fudge but also Albus Dumbledore and tonight’s sensation, Bryan Watson, the anger on the visitor’s face suddenly froze.

His foot, half-stepped out, also froze in mid-air, neither advancing nor retreating. The man’s usual composure and aristocratic air seemed to have abandoned him completely, leaving him looking comically off-balance.

“Oh, Lucius?” Fudge exclaimed, blinking in surprise. He struggled to keep the relief out of his voice as he addressed the unexpected visitor. “How did you find your way here… Come to think of it, your wife and son weren’t harmed in tonight’s… er, chaos, were they?”

“I inquired and learned that you had returned to the Ministry first, Minister Fudge,” Lucius said slowly. “But I wasn’t aware you were entertaining… guests.”

Bearing the gazes of the three most powerful wizards in British magical society simultaneously, Lucius behaved much more properly than he had initially intended. He slowly lowered his foot, the expensive dragon-hide boot making contact with the plush carpet without a sound. He greeted Fudge with a slight bow, then nodded almost imperceptibly to Dumbledore, his lips tightening as he did so.

Finally, Lucius’s gaze fell on Bryan Watson. The veins on his forehead twitched violently, and for a moment, he felt an urge to turn tail and run, propriety be damned.

“Oh, we were just about done-” Fudge said hurriedly, eager to diffuse the weird air that had suddenly filled the room. Even when Lucius was pulling handfuls of gold galleons from his pocket to ‘donate’ to various Ministry causes, Fudge had never found Lucius Malfoy so pleasing to the eye as he did at this moment. He eagerly waved at Lucius, gesturing for him to enter fully. “Don’t be shy, Lucius, come in. We’ve just about wrapped up our important business.”

Fudge paused, a thought suddenly occurring to him. “So, you’ve come to see me about… ahem, if it’s about that cauldron workshop legislation from last time, we can discuss it later. Much later, preferably,” he added under his breath.

‘We’re just about done’

Hearing these words, a flash of panic passed through Lucius’s gray eyes. Just moments ago, he had been unsure whether to leave, his usual confidence shaken by the unexpected presence of Dumbledore and Watson. But now, he immediately made his decision.

Lucius took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his expensive, tailored robes. With practiced ease, he slipped back into his persona of the outraged citizen. After closing the door with a soft click, he spoke in a stiff tone.

“It’s not about the workshop, Minister Fudge,” Lucius said, his voice cold enough to frost the windows. “What I want to discuss is precisely my wife and son!”

Fudge’s bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What about them?” he asked, a note of genuine concern creeping into his voice. Despite his many faults, Fudge did care about the well-being of prominent wizarding families – especially those with deep pockets and political influence.

“They were injured in the chaos!” Lucius said coldly.

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