“Dragon blood is getting more expensive every single month, Floo powder is getting more expensive, potion ingredients are getting more expensive—everything related to magic is getting more expensive these days. Oh, it feels like Galleons have depreciated significantly in value, yet the Ministry’s salary hasn’t budged even an inch upward in years!”

A middle-aged witch with silver-gray hair pulled back in a tight bun passed by Lucius in the crowded Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. She was angrily complaining to her companion.

“I really wish our esteemed Minister would do something genuinely practical to improve this deteriorating situation instead of chasing after phantoms and conspiracies!”

“You’re dreaming if you think that’ll ever happen, Lisa—”

The witch’s companion yawned lazily, clearly having heard this exact complaint many times before and grown weary of it. Then the two walked away from the fireplace area, disappearing into the bustling crowd of the Ministry’s reception hall.

Similar complaints occasionally reached Lucius’s ears as he stood there near the fountain, while he remained expressionless. He stepped forward to join the jostling horde of Ministry workers, all heading toward the elevators that would carry them to their various departments.

The current business environment throughout the entire European magical world was undeniably poor, deteriorating month by month with no signs of improvement. As for how this economic situation had come about, Lucius Malfoy understood it perfectly well.

Ordinary magical folk across Britain were still struggling desperately with the daily necessities of life, barely making ends meet on stagnant wages. Most departments of the Ministry of Magic were utterly exhausted, completely overwhelmed, dealing with the increasingly severe security situation throughout the magical world.

The upper echelons of government were busy wrestling with Hogwarts over control and authority. And a considerable number of wealthy families like the Malfoys, those who controlled the economic lifeblood of the magical world and operated the industries closely connected to wizards’ daily lives were busy expanding territory and gathering resources for the Dark Lord’s return to power.

Before the Dark Lord had returned to the magical world, before everything had gone to hell, he and his wife Narcissa had spent most of each year shuttling constantly between the Malfoy family’s numerous companies and workshops scattered across Europe.

They had been busy setting ambitious development goals for their companies and workshops, seeking innovative ways to expand production capacity while aggressively suppressing costs through efficiency and leverage.

Finding more reliable and sincere raw material suppliers who wouldn’t price-gouge. Building good, strong political relationships with influential politicians in various countries to open up new profitable markets and secure favorable trade agreements.

It could be said that families like the Malfoys, though they dominated and controlled the magical world through accumulated wealth and influence, also supported and sustained it through their extensive business networks. They were the engine of the economy.

Now all that careful work was systematically falling apart, piece by piece.

A long queue had formed in front of the elevator. Lucius’s indifferent gray eyes stared fixedly at the floor indicator above the door. A surge of deep frustration was building uncomfortably in his chest, pressing against his ribs.

Ding—

The elevator finally arrived. Lucius followed the queue, slowly inching forward as people filed into the car. When his turn finally came, the elevator car was nearly full to capacity.

Yet distracted as he was, lost in dark thoughts about his impossible situation, he still tried to squeeze into the crowded elevator hall without really looking at who was already inside.

Arthur Weasley frowned deeply from his position near the back of the car, looking somewhat surprised and concerned at Lucius who seemed completely absent-minded, and apparently hadn’t noticed Arthur at all.

After hesitating for a moment, Arthur still gestured to the nervous Percy standing strictly beside him to squeeze further into the elevator car. Percy pressed against the wall, making grudging room for Lucius despite their families’ long, bitter history.

The elevator rose floor by floor. But Lucius’s mood continued to sink lower with each passing floor.

When a businessman reached a certain level of success and influence, paying extremely close attention to the political situation became an absolute necessity for survival and continued prosperity. You had to see the storms coming.

Although the Ministry of Magic loudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen through official statements and Daily Prophet articles that the British magical world remained perfectly peaceful and prosperous… merchants with a certain social status in other European countries had all clearly sensed that something was deeply amiss in the British magical world.

The international market had rapidly lost confidence in the British magical world’s stability and future. Merchants from France, Germany, Italy, and beyond had become noticeably more cautious when doing any business with British families and companies. They were paying much more attention to cash flow and demanding short-term contracts rather than the long-term partnerships that had once been standard.

Risk assessment had changed overnight.

Meanwhile, industries under families like the Malfoys were all thoroughly reducing production capacity, cutting staff members, closing workshops and facilities. This interconnected series of factors: political instability, economic uncertainty, the Dark Lord’s shadow had created the current rapidly deteriorating situation.

Just like the last civil war in the British magical world fourteen years ago.

Back then, he had been zealous and idealistic in pursuing the Dark Lord’s cruel and ruthless dreams of pure-blood supremacy and magical domination. He’d believed in the cause with the fervor of youth. Only to realize far too late, only after the Dark Lord’s fall, that the Malfoy family had suffered absolutely staggering heavy losses in that war.

Financial losses. Political losses. Social losses.

Losses it had taken years of careful work to recover from, to rebuild what had been destroyed.

And now they were doing it all again. History seemed to be repeating itself like a curse.

“First floor, Minister’s office, including the Minister’s office logistics department—”

A cold, mechanical female voice in the elevator car jolted Lucius abruptly awake from his brooding, circular thoughts. Coming to his senses with a start, he was surprised to discover that there weren’t many people left in the previously crowded elevator car.

Most had gotten off on other floors.

In fact, only Arthur Weasley and one of his sons were left standing in the elevator. And they were both staring at him with concern and confusion written plainly on their faces.

Why was Lucius Malfoy, of all people, visiting the Minister’s office?

Instinctively, by long habit and conditioning, a skillful sarcastic smile appeared at the corners of Lucius’s mouth. His default expression when encountering Weasleys. He was preparing to say something appropriately cutting and mocking, to put the blood traitors in their proper place with a insult.

But before the cruel words could leave his lips, he remembered his true position now.

He was standing on the same side as the Weasley family—blood traitors, embarrassments to pure-blood families everywhere. The thought was truly humiliating enough to make him want to vomit.

The sneer at the corners of Lucius’s mouth faded away, and he forcibly swallowed the poisonous words that had been forming on his tongue. With a neutral, controlled but unpleasant expression, he gave Arthur and his son a barely perceptible nod of acknowledgment.

“Good morning.”

The words felt like shards of glass in his throat.

Arthur’s eyes widened instantly, as if hearing that the Chudley Cannons had miraculously won the Quidditch World Cup through some impossible turn of fate. He stared at Lucius Malfoy in absolute disbelief, his mouth slightly open, almost thinking he’d heard wrong or gone temporarily mad.

Lucius Malfoy greeting him? Politely? Without venom?

Meanwhile, the nervous Percy also showed visible surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. His mouth fell slightly open in shock.

“Hello, ahem, Lucius.”

Lucius’s completely unexpected change in attitude and behavior left Arthur, who had been mentally prepared for a sharp retort or cruel insult about his family’s poverty, with nowhere to vent his pent-up defensive momentum.

His freckled face was reddening with confusion and discomfort, he coughed awkwardly several times, clearing his throat unnecessarily.

“Are you also here to see the Minister this morning?”

“That’s right. I have matters to discuss.”

Suppressing the burning shame of having a civil, normal conversation with Arthur Weasley of all people—a man he’d spent decades despising, Lucius pressed his thin lips together tightly and nodded stiffly.

The three of them walked out of the elevator together in uncomfortable silence and headed down the carpeted corridor toward the Minister’s office. What should have been a short corridor felt as long as running ten exhausting laps around a full-sized Quidditch pitch under the summer sun.

Every step was agony.

All three felt unbearably tormented by the awkward, heavy tension.

As they gradually approached the Minister’s office, Percy’s breathing grew heavier. His fists clenched unconsciously inside his sleeves. His eyes, ringed with dark circles and lacking their usual bright spirit, began to come alive with desperate hope. He said softly,

“Dad… will the Minister… will he agree?”

Percy stammered anxiously. But Mr. Weasley, after casting a wary, suspicious glance at the back of Lucius’s head, gently interrupted his son before Percy could reveal too much information.

“No need to worry, Percy.” Arthur’s voice was gentle.

“We’ll explain everything clearly and calmly to the Minister.”

Arthur Weasley came to see Fudge about his son’s matter. What pleasant misfortune had befallen his son?

Lucius couldn’t help wondering with mild curiosity, though he knew that if he asked directly, Arthur Weasley wouldn’t say a single word to him in response.

“You go first, Lucius—”

The three of them gathered awkwardly in front of the Minister’s office door. Mr. Weasley clearly didn’t want Lucius Malfoy present as a witness when he spoke privately with Fudge about sensitive matters, so he deliberately stepped back, moving aside, letting Malfoy have the opportunity to knock first and enter alone.

Lucius’s lips twitched slightly at the obvious dismissal. He nodded curtly to Arthur Weasley in acknowledgment and this simple polite gesture, this basic courtesy, surprised Arthur even more profoundly than the morning greeting had.

What had happened to Lucius Malfoy?

Knock, knock, knock—

Lucius knocked on the door with his knuckles.

Thud, thud, thud—

“Don’t bother knocking, the Minister isn’t in his office right now—”

A head poked out curiously from the logistics office next door, having heard the repeated knocking on the door.

“Isaac, do you know where the Minister went? Did he go out of the building?”

Arthur raised his eyebrows questioningly and patted the shoulder of Percy reassuringly. His son’s expression had become immediately disappointed and worried.

“Oh, it’s Arthur—good morning—”

The middle-aged wizard called Isaac’s entire body also emerged from the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with crossed arms.

“You’re here to see the Minister about something important? Well, about twenty minutes ago, maybe half an hour now—he was in an absolute rage, completely furious about something. Smashed some things in his office—we heard the crashes and breaking glass from in here. Then he huffily stormed off to find Ms. Umbridge. We heard him shouting in the corridor: ‘Dolores, where are you? I must speak with you immediately!'”

Isaac shrugged expressively. He mimicked Fudge’s angry, high-pitched tone with remarkable accuracy, even getting the pompous inflection and breathless quality exactly right. It was quite a good impression.

“Oh, thank you very much for that information—”

Arthur said with some genuine surprise at this news.

“So, do you happen to know why the Minister was so angry this morning?”

“You’ll have to find that out yourself, Arthur—”

Isaac blinked his curiosity-filled eyes mischievously, saying with great interest and hope for good gossip later, “If you find out what’s actually going on, don’t forget to come back and share the story with me!”

“Oh, I will if I can—”

After hesitating briefly, Arthur nodded in vague agreement.

Then Arthur looked at the somewhat dazed, distracted Lucius and said cautiously, “Looks like we’ll have to change locations.”

They returned to the elevator hall in continued awkward silence, none of them quite knowing what to say. While waiting for the next elevator car to arrive, Percy wiped the accumulating sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and swallowed dryly.

“Dad, should we perhaps come back another time to discuss this with the Minister?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Percy. Be brave. Stand up straight.”

Arthur said both gently and sternly, trying to bolster his son’s waning confidence with his words and tone.

“As I said, that matter wasn’t your fault at all. The Ministry’s decision was wrong.”

The three took the elevator down one floor, the journey passing in tense silence broken only by the mechanical voice announcing floors. They passed through the busy office hall to arrive in front of Dolores Umbridge’s office door.

“Since Dumbledore has clearly refused our request, then let’s legislate around him, Cornelius—”

A woman’s voice suppressing excitement and vindictive pleasure, came from inside the office.

“I’ll speak with Piers as soon as possible if I can arrange it. He’ll support your decision, I’m absolutely certain. But you’ll need to personally meet with the wizards of the Wizengamot yourself, Minister. We must act quickly and decisively, because once we begin this process, someone will surely tip off Dumbledore and Watson about what we’re planning!”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep