The speaker was a tall, pale, goateed man—a stranger to Harry.
He was surrounded by a crowd of officials.
Scrimgeour stood beside him, gripping his wand, visibly cautious.
"Dear Pierce, isn't it normal for me to be here?" Dumbledore greeted him warmly.
Cynix shook his head and embraced Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore, I'm honestly surprised you still remember me. Back at Hogwarts, I was always… rather unremarkable."
"I don't think anyone who scored five Outstanding NEWTs could be called unremarkable," Dumbledore replied with a slight smile. "You were always quiet—a true Ravenclaw. No headmaster forgets the students who embody their House's ideals."
"I just didn't expect you to become Minister for Magic."
Cynix looked at Dumbledore in astonishment. "Neither did I. I thought I'd sit as Deputy Director until retirement. But these days, young wizards are more impressive than ever. Perhaps my colleagues felt that putting an old man in charge would make them feel safe. Foolish, really."
"Of course, I'm even more surprised that you remember so much about me."
"I've nearly forgotten my own grades. Did I really score five Outstandings?"
Dumbledore shook his head with amusement. "As much as I'd love to reminisce about Hogwarts, dear Pierce, now is not the time for pleasantries. Voldemort has returned."
Like everyone else, the newly appointed Minister had an immediate, visceral reaction—his body shuddered involuntarily at the name.
"H-He's really back?" Cynix stammered. "Cornelius kept insisting… I mean, he's been denying this all along."
Kingsley spoke grimly. "Minister, it's true. I saw it myself."
Cynix, already pale, turned completely white.
"He's really back?" His voice trembled like dead leaves caught in a storm.
The other Ministry officials—including Scrimgeour—seemed to shrink under a heavy black-and-white filter, as if the color had drained from the world.
"Yes," Kingsley said hoarsely. "The Dark Lord has returned."
Cynix sucked in a sharp breath, looking ready to drop dead on the spot.
"But there's good news," Kingsley clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Mr. Potter fought him in the vault and severed one of his arms."
"He's weak—for now."
Cynix exhaled in relief.
Harry shook his head. "But he won't stay weak for long."
Cynix inhaled sharply again. "But Mr. Potter, aren't you…"
"Can you stop people from fearing Voldemort?" Harry interrupted, staring at him.
Cynix didn't answer. Scrimgeour lowered his head.
Fear the Dark Lord?
They couldn't even control their own fear—how could they convince others to stop fearing him?
"Voldemort's name carries magic." Harry shook his head. "The more fear he inspires, the stronger he becomes."
"If this continues, he won't take long to recover. Even if he never reaches his full power, he'll be close."
The air grew heavy again.
The more terrifying he is, the stronger he becomes.
Now that they understood this, controlling their fear became even harder.
"What will the Ministry do?" Harry asked, his gaze piercing.
Cynix was silent.
After a long pause, he hesitated. "Fear feeds his power? Is this true, Professor Dumbledore?"
"I believe so," Dumbledore nodded. "His name holds ancient dark magic."
"Those who fear him become anchors for his power."
Cynix took a deep breath. "Then… the Ministry must suppress this information. We can't let people know and keep feeding his strength."
"No. They should know." Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter if they know—their fear exists either way."
"But if they know the truth, they can at least protect themselves—or at least feel like they can."
Cynix shook his head. "Mr. Potter, I understand your perspective, but it's naive."
"No, Minister Cynix," Harry cut him off. "You don't need to convince me. What the Ministry does is your business."
"I'm simply stating my own stance—and what I intend to do next."
Cynix froze.
So did Scrimgeour.
After a moment, Scrimgeour finally reacted. "Harry, you're planning to have Skeeter publish Voldemort's return?"
"Why not?" Harry countered.
Cynix frowned. "Mr. Potter, you should work with the Ministry."
"The Ministry has already disappointed me." Harry cut him off again. "Last year, Dumbledore warned us repeatedly about Voldemort's return. And what did that get him?"
"The Daily Prophet slandering him."
"They said anything and everything to cover up the truth."
He paused, then lifted his gaze to Cynix.
"Has the Ministry put Fudge on trial yet?"
"Trial?" Cynix's mouth fell open. "Why would we put Cornelius on trial? He was simply negligent."
"Negligent?" Harry's tone turned sharp. "What Fudge did—you think that can be dismissed with one feeble word?"
Cynix opened his mouth to respond.
Harry poked him in the chest.
"To hide his fear, he ignored the fact that those six people were Death Eaters. That's just negligence?"
"To cover his mistakes, he spread lies about me and Professor Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet. That's just negligence?"
"He even branded me 'The Butcher of Little Hangleton' and tried to put me on trial. That, too, is just negligence?"
A dead silence fell.
Every Ministry official lowered their heads, unable to refute him.
Now, looking back, Fudge's actions were beyond excessive.
"I tolerated him out of respect for Professor Dumbledore." Harry's voice was calm. "But that doesn't mean I have no opinion of him."
"Let's handle this properly."
"The Ministry should hold a fair trial. Whatever punishment he deserves, let it be given."
"Don't make me get involved. It'll get ugly."
Cynix's face darkened.
No one in power liked being threatened—especially so blatantly and in public.
"Mr. Potter, Fudge is Fudge. I am not him." Cynix shook his head. "You can trust—"
Harry cut him off with a dismissive wave.
"Trust you?"
"Maybe I could. But you haven't been Minister for long. Has the Ministry changed?"
Cynix **opened his mouth—**but no words came out.
"Harry," Dumbledore interjected. "You shouldn't be so resistant to the Ministry."
"Wizards should stay away from politics." Harry turned to him.
He had said this in his second year.
"But to defeat Voldemort, we need allies. The Ministry can be a powerful one." Dumbledore smiled. "Pierce, let's discuss this in private sometime, shall we?"
Cynix nodded. "Of course, Professor Dumbledore."
Harry studied him for a moment. "I hope that when dealing with Voldemort, the Ministry doesn't forget its other duties."
Cynix opened his mouth but said nothing.
They left.
The Aurors were busy cleaning up the devastated Gringotts.
Meanwhile, Cynix handled the flood of reporters from The Daily Prophet.
Harry, Dumbledore, Sirius, and Tonks returned to The Leaky Cauldron.
As they stepped inside, the tension still hung in the air.
"Four whiskeys!" Sirius called eagerly.
"Three whiskeys, one honey water," Harry corrected him.
Sirius put his hands on his hips. "I'd rather have Butterbeer."
"Two whiskeys, one honey water, one Butterbeer." Harry repeated.
Sirius blinked. "Wait, the honey water's not for me?"
Harry gave him a pointed look.
"That's for Professor Dumbledore."
Dumbledore innocently blinked his twinkling blue eyes.
They chose the most secluded corner, farthest from the bar, and sat down to wait for Old Tom to bring their drinks.
"Professor Dumbledore, that man—Cynix—is he really still Cynix?" Harry got straight to the point.
Dumbledore nodded. "If even you didn't notice anything unusual, how could I?"
"His reactions were exactly what I would expect from Pierce. That is who he is."
"But… that doesn't rule out the Imperius Curse."
"That's a spell even I wouldn't immediately detect."
Harry frowned. The magical signature of the Imperius Curse was extremely faint—unless cast right in front of him, he wouldn't be able to sense it.
"You think there are still Death Eaters inside the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry sneered. "When were there ever NOT?"
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates