Weasley Wants to Pay Back His Conscience

Chapter 272 Weasley Wants to Pay Back His Conscience

Picking up where we left off, the dozens of wizards formed an iron barrel around them, with Scrimgeour in the middle already thrown to the ground, his arms tied behind his back, and his head pressed against a brick.

Seeing him like this, the pent-up anger in Fudge's heart suddenly turned into a ball of fire and burned away.

He then leaned down to look again, shook his head, and sighed, "Scrimgeour, I've always trusted and respected you, so why did you do such a thing?"

"Is the position of Minister of Magic really that important to you?"

Upon hearing this, Scrimgeour struggled to lift his head and stared at Fudge, saying slowly and deliberately, "It was just an accident, Minister. I forgot I had this dagger on me, so I didn't give it to Mr. Weasley, that's all."

"Oh—Scrimgeour, you've always been the most careful and cautious; I don't think you would forget something so important—"

Upon hearing this, Fudge shook his head vigorously, a hint of pity on his face, and said to those around him, "Take him away first. I think it won't be long before he returns to the courtroom."

With a shout, the wizards pounced like hawks seizing sparrows, shoving and jostling Scrimgeour away. Once the noise had faded and all was quiet, only Fudge and Percy remained.

Fudge listened intently for a moment, then the sorrow on his face vanished, and a burst of laughter erupted from his chest. The laughter, initially suppressed, rose higher and higher, echoing throughout the room.

"Excellent work, Mr. Percy Weasley!"

The man grinned broadly, grabbed Percy's shoulder and patted him several times. "I have to admit, even though I've always thought highly of you, I still underestimated you by a large margin."

Percy, after being struck a few times, looked respectful and took a step back to give a slight bow. "I was just doing my job, Minister."

Seeing his impeccable manners and humble words, Fudge was even more pleased. He shook his head and sighed, "You are truly the most politically astute person I have ever met, boy."

"I dare say you'll be in my position sooner or later."

Upon hearing this, Percy was jolted awake, straightened his back abruptly, and replied loudly, "Thank you for your praise, Minister."

"However, there is still much I can learn from you. The time I spent as your secretary was the most beneficial for me."

The more attentive he was, the more Fudge's mind was preoccupied with the Scrimgeour case. He had no time to listen carefully. Before Fudge could finish speaking, he interrupted him, saying, "Alright, alright, son, let's save these things for when I write your letter of recommendation. We have more important things to do now."

Percy, realizing his lapse in composure after being stopped, quickly dropped his obsequious manner and pondered for a moment before saying, "According to Article 15 of the Ministry of Magic's Law on the Administration of Public Security, illegally possessing a weapon and breaking into an interrogation room will likely result in ten days of detention and a fine of two hundred gallons."

When the topic of imprisonment came up, he suddenly cleared his throat and said, "Minister, I think we can take this opportunity to appoint a capable and motivated new sheriff to replace Mr. Scrinker."

"Just as the Ministry of Magic cannot do without a Minister, Hogsmeade cannot do without a Sheriff."

He secretly offered himself up, but Fudge had no patience to listen to him. He just frowned and said impatiently, "Don't be silly, child."

"Of course I know Scrimgeour will only be in jail for ten days at most. What I'm asking is what method you're going to use to kill him next."

Upon hearing this, Percy was struck dumb, his whole body stiffened, and he even choked on his breath.

Kill, killed Scrimgeour?

Wasn't the plan to frame him and demote him? Why did it turn into murder?!

Percy was drenched in cold sweat. Only now did he realize that his previous self-proclaimed mastery of power was like a frog at the bottom of a well trying to see the moon.

He was lost in thought, staring blankly for a long while, before his soul returned to his body. He met Fudge's eyes and said weakly, "We—we're going to kill Scrimgeour."

"Yes, that's exactly what I think. You're right, sir—"

"However, I think if Mr. Scrimgeour dies in the Ministry of Magic, it will incite distrust of the Ministry among wizards."

After hearing this, Fudge pondered the words for a moment, a glint of light flashing in his eyes, "You mean, let him die outside?"

'

"Of course not!"

"Mr. Minister, what I mean is—we don't need to do this at all. We can make things more serious and send him to Azkaban for imprisonment."

"I don't think anyone would want to support a person with a criminal record and who has been to Azkaban as a minister."

Fudge nodded repeatedly after hearing this. "That's a good idea. Although there are no Death Eaters in New Azkaban now, there are still some dark wizards. These madmen will definitely not let go of the opportunity to kill an Auror."

Upon hearing this, Percy felt a cold sweat pour down his forehead, soaking him to the bone. His tongue stiffened, and he couldn't utter a sound.

After stammering for a long time, he finally managed to squeeze out a sentence.

"But now New Azkaban is heavily guarded by prison guards, and they certainly won't let those dark wizards kill Scrimgeour."

"And even if those dark wizards succeed, what if they implicate you during interrogation?"

These words were so logical and well-founded that Fudge was taken aback. He frowned and asked, "You mean you won't take action in Azkaban?"

Percy nodded eagerly, "That's right!"

Fudge grew increasingly confused, pacing back and forth, muttering Percy's words to himself. After a long while, he suddenly slapped his leg and exclaimed, "Ah! I understand!"

"You mean you'll make your move on the way to Azkaban, right?"

"This is the most covert and safest way; it won't leak out at all, and it can also frame the Death Eaters and the Malays!"

As Fudge spoke, he became more and more animated, weaving his wicked scheme into a seamless and intricately linked whole.

Percy listened with trepidation, his lips moving several times, but it was as if his throat was blocked, and he couldn't get a single word out.

After Fudge finished explaining everything, he let out a long sigh of relief, then turned around and pinched Percy's shoulder, saying admiringly, "Kid, I know you're very modest and wanted me to come up with the solution myself, but I don't mind an outstanding young man like you showing your talent."

"This is your achievement, I won't take it away from you."

Before he finished speaking, he had already put down his hand and gone to deal with the Scrimgeour case.

As they reached the courtroom door, Fudge suddenly stopped and turned around, abruptly saying, "I remember you just mentioned choosing a new sheriff?"

"Let's give that position to Sinkness. He's a long-time employee of the Ministry of Magic and has a lot of experience."

"You are still young, and your future opportunities and achievements will be greater than his."

Having said that, he twirled his robe and this time truly went far away.

The courtroom was deathly silent, like a graveyard. Percy remained rooted to the spot, his ears ringing with Fudge's earlier words, "This is your achievement."

A bitter taste rose in his throat, and a chill ran through his bones; only one thought lingered in his mind.

I killed Mr. Scrimgeour.

As the saying goes, good news doesn't travel far, but bad news travels fast. Scrimgeour only spent one night in the Shrieking Shack, and the next day, news of his "failed assassination attempt on the Minister and subsequent capture" spread throughout the streets of Hogsmeade.

On the third day, newspapers rushed to publish articles, their front pages filled with large black characters about the Scrinker assassination. Everyone was talking about it, creating quite a stir.

Some upright gentlemen vehemently denounced this underhanded act; others cursed Scrimgeour as unworthy of being the head of the Aurors; still others secretly applauded, saying that the Ministry of Magic should have long ago replaced him with a truly iron-fisted figure. The clamor was deafening, and the argument raged on.

The Daily Prophet's methods were the most cunning; it never mentioned the word "assassination" throughout the entire article, but instead described Scrimgeour's dagger in great detail.

It is said that this thing is so insidious that it can only satisfy a wizard by sucking out his life force when it is close to him. The blade can draw blood and kill instantly, and even a graze will kill you.

It's a huge, elaborate piece, depicting something even more sinister than the ring dagger Harry wears on his waist, isn't it?

At noon that day, Harry glanced at the Daily Prophet in the Great Hall, then tossed it aside and laughed, "What a fine piece of writing! The author must have been paid by the Ministry of Magic to make a knife sound so terrifying. Those in the know would say it's a dagger, but those who don't would think it's some kind of death warrant!"

Hermione, holding a newspaper beside her, read for a while before taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice to calm her nerves. She then whispered, "I hope Mr. Scrimgeour isn't in any trouble."

"If anything happens to him, we will all be held responsible."

Seeing the worry on her face, Harry comforted her, "Don't worry, sister. These dirty tricks in the government are just for show, nothing serious."

"Even if that scoundrel Fudge really has evil intentions and wants to do something underhanded, I will protect him."

As they were talking, they suddenly heard the sound of flapping wings. An owl flew into the hall, circled twice above Harry's head, dropped a letter, and then flapped its wings and flew away.

Harry grabbed the letter, tore open the seal, and quickly glanced at it. A strange expression immediately appeared on his face, a mixture of amusement and doubt.

Hermione noticed his unusual expression, put down her cup, and asked, "What's wrong? Whose letter is it?"

"Percy Weasley".

"puff!"

Upon hearing the name, Ron spewed out mouthfuls of chicken, duck, and fish like hailstones, splattering Neville across the table with oil and meat scraps all over his face.

He didn't even bother to apologize, grabbed the silver cup and gulped down a few mouthfuls, then rushed over to Harry and asked urgently, "Percy wrote you a letter? What does he want?"

Harry shoved the letter into his hand and said, "This letter is all very vague. It just says that I need to meet with you in Hogsmeade at 3:45 today."

Ron glanced at the letter, his expression shifting several times before he asked cautiously, "Harry, are you sure you want to go?"

"What if this is a trap set by him and Fudge to deal with you? Now that Scrimgeour is gone, Fudge can focus all his efforts on dealing with you."

Harry said, "Don't think I underestimate them. Even if I summoned a hundred or so Aurors to ambush them, what could they do?"

Ron and Hermione were speechless for a moment, and then both nodded in agreement.

In the afternoon, Harry excused himself from herb class, saying he wasn't feeling well, and went to the Screaming Shack in Hogsmeade by himself.

Harry concealed himself and found his way into Percy's office, where he found Percy wandering around aimlessly.

He sat down with an imposing air and said, "What business do you have with me? Just say it."

Percy whirled around and saw Harry. He rushed forward, forgetting all formalities, and whispered urgently, "Fudge wants to kill Scrimgeour!"

"The jury and the presiding judge are Fudge's men, Scrimgeour will definitely be sentenced to Azkaban."

"He's going to send men to attack on the road!"

Harry listened to his explanation, but only scoffed, "You're so illogical. Why should I believe you? And why should I get involved in this mess?"

"Don't forget, it was I who told you this scheme to frame someone."

Although Percy didn't understand the deeper meaning of the word "this bastard," he knew that Harry only used it to refer to people he disliked. He choked up, remained silent for a long while, then took a deep breath and said, "This is an unplanned situation."

"I knew that bringing a weapon into the courtroom would at most result in a few days of detention, but now everything is in chaos."

"I never intended to kill Scrimgeour—no! It had nothing to do with me; Fudge had it all done!"

Harry watched his rambling explanation with cold eyes, then suddenly cut him off, saying, "You may not kill Scrimgeour, but Scrimgeour will die because of you. There's no escaping this."

These words struck Percy like a dagger to the heart. His face turned deathly pale, and he clenched his fists several times. Suddenly, he looked up sharply and said urgently, "No! You were the one who told me about this plan!"

"If Scrimgeour is really dead, we're both responsible! He was killed because of you!"

Harry simply leaned back, put his legs up on the table, and said, "I'm fine with it. It doesn't interfere with my eating and drinking. You don't need to worry about this on my behalf."

Percy was stunned to see that he didn't care. His lips trembled several times as he changed his words several times before finally slumping into a chair and slumping down, saying dejectedly, "What can I do to save Scrimgeour?"

Upon hearing this, Harry immediately became serious, leaned forward, and smiled, "It's not that difficult. From now on, if there's any news or disturbance in the Ministry of Magic, I'll need to ask you to give me a definite answer."

Percy's eyelids twitched, and he nodded, saying, "Okay, I promise you."

Harry added, "We must make an unbreakable vow."

"What?! Is this really necessary?"

"If you don't want to, then so be it. But when you toss and turn at night, don't let Scrimgeour's soul bewitch you."

Upon hearing this, Percy could no longer resist and immediately gave in.

Three days later, the Ministry of Magic issued its verdict: Scrimgeour had violated ministry rules by mistakenly entering the courtroom with a weapon and was sentenced to ten days of imprisonment in Azkaban.

On the day of departure, he was shackled on the wrist and escorted into the Thestral chariot.

The two accompanying men and women, Aurors and Fudge, said their goodbyes, climbed into the car, and then soared into the sky, disappearing into the clouds in the blink of an eye.

Once in the air, the female Auror on the left turned her head respectfully and asked, "Master, should we deal with that guy in the carriage?"

The man in the right-hand carriage, Auror, continued driving and said lightly, "Let's wait for Mr. Potter to arrive before we talk about it."