Fudge stepping down?
Barty's brow creased slightly.
Fudge was a politician, and politicians inevitably had this flaw or that hanging over them. That much was unavoidable.
But the real question was whether those flaws were enough to bring him down.
"Fudge is extremely cautious. He not only avoids leaving leverage against himself, he certainly wouldn't let anyone else get hold of it," Barty said coolly.
"I don't see how you could force him out."
"Then nothing really changes for you," Tver replied, offering no further explanation.
He couldn't exactly tell him that he knew Fudge was destined to fall sooner or later.
"On the contrary," Tver continued, "not only will I have people openly attacking Fudge, I'll also help you repair your image."
At that, Cynthia smoothly took out a sheet of parchment and placed it in front of Barty.
"Travers. Avery. Amycus Carrow. Alecto Carrow…"
It was a list of names, all Death Eaters, and all of them Death Eaters who had escaped prosecution.
As the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Barty recognized them instantly.
Quite a few of these people had been released by his own hand.
Back then, he had been determined to convict them, but every one of them came from entrenched pure-blood families with deep influence in the wizarding world.
Many members of the Wizengamot were related to them in one way or another. Without solid evidence, there was no way to arrest a single one.
But the problem was, how were the dead supposed to testify?
Barty losing his chance at becoming Minister hadn't just been because of his son. It was also because these people bore deep grudges against him.
"What does this list mean?" he asked.
"You're in charge of the Quidditch World Cup on August twenty-second, correct?" Tver said.
"That's right."
"On that day, the Death Eaters will put on a rather unfriendly little demonstration. And this list will become your achievement."
"All you need to do is take Dawlish with you and arrest them."
"And everyone on this list happens to have very close ties with Fudge."
"That alone will be more than enough to drag him into a mess."
Tver gestured toward Marvolio. With a resigned shrug, Marvolio stayed the same physically, but his face shifted, transforming into Dawlish's.
Barty's eyes widened in shock.
"You… what is this?"
The strongest fighter in the Ministry's most powerful combat division had been nothing more than a disguised face all along.
"You can call him Marvolio," Tver said, clearly pleased by Barty's reaction. "But within the Ministry, I expect you to call him Dawlish."
As Marvolio gained more and more prominence inside the Ministry, very few witches and wizards failed to be stunned by his changing face.
"No wonder," Barty muttered. "I've always felt Dawlish had become… strange. His body must be some kind of unusual construct as well, isn't it?"
His gaze flicked uneasily between the three of them before finally settling on Tver's calm, unreadable face.
"So if I really become Minister of Magic, Cynthia would naturally take over my former position, and this Marvolio would most likely become Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, correct?"
"That would put half of the Ministry's power in your hands. What exactly are you trying to do?"
"Wait. You're a Hogwarts professor. Don't tell me Dumbledore is behind this?"
At that, Tver's calm expression nearly collapsed. He discreetly pinched his thigh to keep himself from laughing.
"You could look at it that way," he said evenly. "Dumbledore believes Voldemort will return."
"And this time, to prevent the Death Eaters from causing too much damage, we have to lay the groundwork in advance. At the very least, the Ministry must stand on the same side as the Order of the Phoenix."
"So I need someone decisive, someone willing to fight the Death Eaters, to take control of the Ministry."
"And this will be the greatest achievement you can claim since your son was imprisoned."
Tver lifted an eyebrow with open confidence.
Every word he said was true. He had simply left out the finer details of his relationship with Dumbledore.
"And if I refuse?" Barty asked grimly.
In truth, he was already wavering. If it came to a war with the Death Eaters, he would have chosen to fight them regardless of this conversation.
What unsettled him was the feeling of being forced into a corner.
"Then it would become the greatest failure of your career at the Ministry," Tver replied calmly. "The newspapers would be flooded with articles condemning you, the Auror Office would 'accidentally' uncover evidence of bribery, and Cynthia would still replace you."
"Of course, that's not what we want. I sincerely hope you'll choose to join us."
"You wouldn't want the Ministry to side with the Death Eaters after Voldemort's return, would you?"
By the time Barty realized the full truth, he would already be firmly labeled as part of Tver's faction.
At that point, whether he resisted bitterly and tried to withdraw, or became intoxicated by power and stayed willingly, Tver would be fully prepared to deal with it.
"I won't help you do anything that violates the law or basic morality," Barty said.
He slumped back in his chair, tilting his head slightly so his eyes met those of his wife in the portrait.
If it were you, you would understand me, wouldn't you?
The thought weighed heavily on him.
Tver didn't pay much attention to his expression.
There were very few people in the Ministry truly qualified to be Minister. Scrimgeour was too hard-line, the others were too weak, little better than Fudge.
Only Barty Crouch had once been uncompromising, yet had fallen into decline because of his own son.
By all measures, he was the most suitable candidate Tver could control.
"Oh, and one more thing," Tver added casually. "Voldemort knows your son is here and plans to take him away."
In reality, Bertha Jorkins was perfectly safe under Cynthia's care. Voldemort knew only because Tver had deliberately had Wormtail leak the information.
"What?" Barty stared at Tver in shock at his offhand tone.
Aside from Dumbledore, no one who had lived through the last wizarding war could hear of the Dark Lord taking notice of them without feeling fear.
"Don't worry. Everything is under control," Tver said calmly. "Besides, handing over that ticking time bomb is better than keeping it in your house, isn't it?"
He looked up toward the ceiling, his gaze seeming to pass straight through it, as if seeing what was happening upstairs.
Above them, a house-elf hurriedly withdrew a spying charm.
And nearby, a young man sat dazed in a chair, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"What does the Dark Lord want Barty Jr. to do?" Barty asked, his expression finally showing a father's concern.
"To become my colleague," Tver said with a playful smile. "Voldemort wants to pull off a little inside-outside cooperation and ensure his successful resurrection."
"You're planning to make Voldemort fail?" Barty asked sharply.
"No," Tver replied. "We're going to make sure Voldemort succeeds in resurrecting. And your son is the key."
Tver needed to ensure that both Voldemort and Marvolio were brought back in a stable, reliable way.
After that, each of them would carry out their own respective missions.