After speaking, Dumbledore took out the letter from the Misuse of Magic Office and handed it to Fudge.
Fudge skimmed it quickly, then looked from Louis to Dumbledore.
"The contents here should be accurate, yes?" Fudge asked. "If that's the case, I can't help you."
"They're not," Dumbledore replied. "In fact, that Barrier Charm was cast by me, as punishment for the Dursleys' mistreatment of Harry Potter."
"As for the previous warning regarding the Levitation Charm—Mr. Wilson has explained it. He was visiting the Dursleys when he was framed by a house-elf. In truth, Harry Potter received a letter as well." Dumbledore's tone was calm. "You know as well as I do, Cornelius, that tracking spells aren't always accurate."
It seemed everything was going smoothly. A few words from Dumbledore might be enough to clear both Louis and Harry of any wrongdoing.
But then—
"Dumbledore, I'm sorry. What you say makes sense, but the Ministry does not make mistakes."
The ever-smiling, agreeable Cornelius Fudge had just refused to overturn the punishments.
The Ministry doesn't make mistakes?
Louis's face darkened.
Fucking great, how can you say that with a straight face?
Even Dumbledore was momentarily choked into silence. After a long pause, he finally said, "Cornelius, everyone makes mistakes."
"But the trace does not," Fudge insisted. "Ministry employees are only fulfilling their duty. Still, I do understand the difficulties faced by Mr. Wilson and Harry Potter. So I can, on my own authority, suppress the warnings for now. They won't interfere with your schooling. I only hope you, Headmaster, will keep a closer eye on your students to prevent future incidents."
He said it with the air of a man granting a grand favor. Louis had to fight the urge to smack him across the face.
It looked like the problem was "resolved," yet nothing was truly settled.
Fudge seemed to think he now had the power to decide Harry Potter's and Louis's futures with a word.
What exactly goes on inside this man's head? Does he really think he can control us like that?
Even Dumbledore looked dumbfounded by Fudge's twisted reasoning, unsure what to say. Meanwhile, Fudge stepped forward, patted Louis on the shoulder, and gave him a greasy smile that said, Work hard, young man. I believe in you.
Louis almost threw up on the spot.
He shot a pleading look at Dumbledore—Please, let's get out of here before I lose control and beat this man into paste.
But Dumbledore seemed to misinterpret his look, about to speak further—only for Fudge to cut him off.
"Apologies, Dumbledore. I've much more to handle tonight. I'll have to ask you both to leave." Fudge raised a hand, signaling his secretary to escort them out.
Louis secretly exhaled in relief, following the helpless Dumbledore out of the Minister's office.
The moment they opened the door, however, a ball of pink came tumbling in, rolling across the floor.
When it stopped, Louis saw it was Umbridge.
She scrambled up quickly, gave Louis a passing glance, then looked smugly at Dumbledore before giving a little huff and strutting away.
Louis was left speechless.
Seriously? How many weirdos does this Ministry have?
Dumbledore, heavy-hearted, stepped into the lift with Louis, who was still nauseated from the encounter. The two exchanged a glance—each saw the same helplessness mirrored in the other's eyes.
"I imagine you don't think very highly of Fudge," Dumbledore said bluntly.
"No point sugarcoating things with you," Louis replied, baring his white teeth in a grin that gleamed coldly. "If I weren't worried about causing trouble, Fudge wouldn't sleep peacefully another night in his life."
Maybe the Minister would escape nightmares, but Louis had already decided Fudge's days wouldn't be easy. He was already scheming about how to make the Ministry's life difficult.
"Great power must be restrained," Dumbledore told him. "And those born with such gifts, like you, must be all the more careful."
"Like you? The greatest wizard alive, yet people treat you like a fool?" Louis chuckled.
"Sometimes, you don't need to win a contest to achieve your goal," Dumbledore offered, passing on a fragment of his philosophy.
But their conversation was cut short when the sound of the lift startled them.
They hadn't pressed any buttons—the lift had started moving on its own.
Before Louis could act, the lift sped downward, stopping at Level Nine.
"Level Nine? Headmaster, what's down here?" Louis asked, watching the glowing floor numbers with curiosity.
"Level Nine is the Department of Mysteries," Dumbledore explained. "A very secretive place. Normally outsiders aren't allowed inside. Don't touch anything—when someone comes in, we'll ride back up."
"The Department of Mysteries…"
Louis's thoughts stirred. He remembered this was the wizarding world's laboratory, where they studied objects imbued with unique powers.
The most important chambers here were the Hall of Time, where Time-Turners were kept, and the Hall of Prophecy, filled with crystal spheres containing prophecies.
The prophecy about Voldemort and the Boy Who Lived was kept here.
"Time-Turners, huh…" A spark lit Louis's eyes.
He was very curious about them. Normally, the only way to get one was in third year—if a student selected every single subject, Hogwarts would apply for a Time-Turner on their behalf.
But that one would be tightly supervised, with little freedom of use. And realistically, students' schedules were packed enough without stretching themselves thin.
Louis, of course, had energy to spare—but he wasn't about to waste time taking extra classes just for that.
If possible, he'd rather steal one directly.
At that thought, a pair of scarlet eyes slowly opened within the shadow beneath his feet.
Standing at Louis's side, Dumbledore suddenly felt a chill in the air. But he dismissed it, assuming it came from the Department itself.
The lift's light cast Louis's shadow onto the metal doors. As the doors slid open, two cloaked figures stepped inside.
They were Unspeakables, the Department's secretive operatives, all trained in Occlumency and sworn to silence.
In the space between them, Louis's shadow stretched outward, merging seamlessly with the pitch darkness beyond the threshold.
The scarlet eyes vanished. When they reappeared, they were already nestled deep in that darkness.
The lift doors closed again, and Louis's shadow was once more cast upon them—though the chill in the cabin had lessened slightly.
The lift began to ascend, carrying Dumbledore, Louis, and the two Unspeakables back to the Level Eight Atrium.
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