Chapter 32: A Walk with the Minister
Elian didn't understand why the Minister of Magic wanted to see him. Their worlds had never intersected. This sudden, high-level attention made him deeply uneasy.
The stunned faces around the Gryffindor table mirrored his own shock. He was becoming too visible, too fast.
"Elian, be careful," Harry said urgently, leaning forward. "Fudge is paranoid about Dumbledore. He hates anyone he thinks is on Dumbledore's side."
Elian nodded, absorbing the warning.
"Think before you speak," Hermione added, her brow furrowed with concern. "He's a politician."
Ron opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, offering only a grimace of sympathy.
As Elian walked away, Hermione sighed. "He's drawing too much attention. I don't know if that's good."
"He'll be alright," Luna said softly, her gaze following him. "Elian is clever."
Hermione managed a small smile. Luna's faith in Elian was absolute, and oddly comforting.
The walk to the headmaster's office felt familiar. Three times in a month, Elian thought wryly. Most students are lucky to see it once.
He pushed the door open. The office was more crowded than usual. Dumbledore sat behind his desk. Standing near him were two wizards Elian didn't recognize—one in severe black robes, the other in ministerial grey. Dolores Umbridge hovered nearby like a poisonous pink cloud. And in the centre, looking both pompous and deeply agitated, stood Cornelius Fudge.
All eyes turned to him as he entered.
Umbridge leaned in to whisper something to Fudge, who never took his eyes off Elian.
"Ah, Mr. Thorne," Dumbledore said smoothly, cutting through the tension. "I have taken the liberty of excusing you from Professor Flitwick. We have some visitors from the Ministry who wished to speak with you." His eyes gave the faintest, reassuring twinkle.
"Hello, young man," Cornelius Fudge said, stepping forward. He puffed out his chest slightly. "I am Cornelius Fudge. The Minister for Magic." He stressed the title, his gaze darting briefly to Dumbledore as if issuing a challenge.
Dumbledore merely smiled, unperturbed.
"Hello, Minister Fudge," Elian replied. His tone was polite but neutral, devoid of the awe or fear Fudge might have expected. He had no fondness for the man whose wilful blindness had already cost lives and would cost more.
Fudge's smile tightened. This boy was not impressed. He glanced again at Dumbledore's placid face. Of course, he thought bitterly. He's already one of Dumbledore's. Umbridge said he championed their lies about You-Know-Who's return.
Swallowing his irritation, Fudge maintained his statesman's demeanour. "Albus, if you have no objection, I'd like to take a stroll with Mr. Thorne. The grounds are so pleasant this time of year."
"But of course, Minister," Dumbledore said genially. "Hogwarts is always beautiful. A walk might provide some… perspective."
Fudge turned his strained smile back to Elian. "What do you say, my boy? Show an old man around? It's been too long since I've seen the place."
Elian had no choice. Refusing the Minister would be its own kind of statement. He gave a short nod.
They walked in silence for a while, leaving the castle behind, the Black Lake spreading out before them like a sheet of hammered lead under the grey sky. Elian waited, letting Fudge make the first move.
Finally, Fudge stopped, clasping his hands behind his back as he looked out, not at the view, but as if gathering his thoughts. He spoke without turning.
"Elian," he began, his voice dropping its public cheerfulness. "Tell me something. Are you… a Dumbledore man through and through?"
The question hung in the damp air, blunt and loaded. It wasn't about school loyalty. It was about war, power, and which side Elian Thorne was on.
(End of Chapter)
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