The Legacy of Salazar

Behind the Ministry's Back

Cornelius Fudge was going to be a problem.

Dumbledore had known it for a while now, although he had hoped that the Minister would see reason. The fact that he refused to accept not just memory evidence but Quirrell's outright confession meant that his denial was worse than Dumbledore had feared. Fudge might never see reason. Fear could do that to a person.

He watched as Merlin retreated to the elevators with Florean. The boy certainly looked worse for wear, that pallid quality in his cheeks hadn't left since the encounter with the dementors. Florean had told him that even from down the hall, Merlin had sensed them. Dumbledore couldn't say he was surprised—if the incident with the troll was anything to go by, Merlin had a strange affinity with magical creatures. Though it was interesting...

"Headmaster."

Amelia Bones had disentangled herself from the crowd. She fixed him with those cold blue eyes and nodded—a look he understood. It was time to plan countermeasures. He fell into step beside her, and together they left the other Wizengamot members still excitedly discussing the case. Amelia was still fuming over Fudge's outburst—he could see it in the rigidity of her shoulders, in the corners of her mouth.

"He's just scared," he told her. "I still hope that he'll come around eventually."

Amelia shook her head. "There's only so much evidence he can ignore. At this point, it's willful negligence and it won't be long before his inaction has brutal consequences." But she didn't sound angry if anything the Head of Magical Law Enforcement sounded exhausted. "His fear has frozen him, and we can't be led by a frozen man."

They'd reached her office. Amelia pushed open the door for him, revealing another man waiting inside, appraising the Vase with twelve flowers. "You must tell me where you acquired this, Madam," he said as he turned to the pair of them. "I do think my office could use a little colour." He inclined his head, "Albus."

"Rufus."

Rufus Scrimgeour bore his age with pride. His mane of tawny hair had streaks of grey, though from behind wire-rimmed spectacles his yellowish eyes were alive. He crossed over to them, and despite a slight limp in his leg; there was a loping grace to his movements. The Head of the Auror Office extended his hand to Dumbledore, who clasped it, feeling rough callouses.

"It's good to see you again," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Rufus grimaced. "Wish it were under better circumstances." He turned to Amelia. "I received the memo—Quirrell admitted it then?"

She closed the door behind them and nodded, going to her desk. "It has become apparent that You-Know-Who is actively trying to return to power." She sat down, and after a moment Rufus took one of the high-backed musky red chairs. Dumbledore remained standing.

"We knew this day would come," he said heavily, resting his hand on the back of Rufus' chair. "One would hope we'd be more prepared."

"With Fudge ignoring the signs?" Rufus scoffed. "I assume he didn't take Quirrell's admittance well."

"That would be putting it mildly," Amelia said. She brought her hands together before her, thoughtful. "I will try—" and here she met Dumbledore's eyes "—to work on him, but we can't wait for Fudge to catch up."

"What do you need?" Rufus said at once, sitting up in his chair.

"Although we cannot yet officially reinstate the Order of the Phoenix, it would be prudent to inform all former members of these proceedings." She met Dumbledore's gaze again and continued after he'd nodded. "See who else we can bring into the fold—but we can't give Fudge a reason to panic."

"Panic?" repeated Rufus, frowning.

"If he suspects we are acting without his approval and under the assumption that Voldemort is returning," Dumbledore said, noting the way the room flinched at the name, "he may believe we mean to usurp him. His fear will not let him differentiate between the nonsense and practicality, and we don't need to fight the ministry as well."

"This isn't going to stay quiet," Rufus said glancing between the two of them.

"I'd be very surprised if Fudge allowed the Prophet to start broadcasting news of Voldemort's return," Dumbledore said raising his eyebrow. "He doesn't want a panic, and he's going to try to squash any attempt to do otherwise."

Amelia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Well, all the same, we don't want a public panic either. I'll do what I can to make Fudge see sense—if we're lucky he'll sanction the reinstatement of the order just for determent purposes. He's not back yet, but his death eaters are certainly still around."

"Yes," Dumbledore said nodding. He had no doubt that Lucius Malfoy would inform the rest of his circle the details of Quirrell's case. It was only a matter of time before they acted if only to save their own skins.

"That's it?" Rufus said, his voice rising. "That's all we can do? We have a chance to get out in front of this."

"And we are, my friend. But this is a place where we must tread carefully," Dumbledore said calmly. "Fudge might still come around, and at this stage panicking the public without a real threat just might push the Death Eaters to act before Voldemort actually returns."

"Right now," Amelia said meeting Rufus' eyes, "this is just story of failure. Those with fluid alliances won't see this as true power. But if even one of them decides to follow in Quirrell's footsteps, he will come back. I don't know how, but it's clear to all of us here—" and she paused a moment to look at Dumbledore "—that it's only a matter of time. We need that time."

"To do what?" Rufus growled. "Convince Fudge?"

"To prepare, Rufus," Dumbledore said softly. "It's been nearly twelve years, all our contacts have dried up. Alliances have broken. And what more, we don't even know how he's coming back to power." He shook his head. "We already killed him once, Rufus. It's clear that isn't going to be enough this time."

Rufus finally nodded, the heat leaving his face. He stroked his chin for a moment, fingers curling in his tawny hair. "I'll see what I can do. One of my auror's might have a contact in the Department of Mysteries, perhaps they can figure something out."

"Very good, keep me informed." Dumbledore checked his watch, "And I must be getting back to the school—they'll be needing this information as well."

"Of course." Amelia and Rufus both stood, and Dumbledore nodded to the pair of them.

It didn't take Dumbledore long after that to apparate to Hogsmeade, and twenty minutes later he strode into his office. But before he'd even had a chance to sit down, the office door banged open and his Potion's Master barged inside.

"Tell me you aren't serious," Severus spat, crossing the room in a few furious strides.

"I generally am, although in this case, you'll need to be more specific."

Snape's lip curled. "I've just been told that you've decided whom to hire as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."

Dumbledore sighed and sat down at his desk. "I'm sure you're aware I couldn't hire you."

"I know that," Snape shot back his voice rising. "But surely there were better candidates than him?"