It was almost late at night, and the Prime Minister sat alone in his office, savoring the recent victory of the IRA's willingness to disarm, which had given him a huge boost in popularity at home and abroad. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

He didn't want to open his eyes, because a whole lot of bad things awaited him -- the formation of the Hong Kong garrison, the improvement of the Soviet economic situation, the formation of the Palestinian National Authority, the intensification of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict, the abnormal movement of the Israeli army -- and the feeling of joy for a while, the prime minister closed his eyes and hummed one of his favorite symphonic tunes.

Just as he was about to hurry to read the last bit of economic report, he heard a soft cough in front of him.

He froze.

"Hey?" he said, trying to make his voice sound brave.

At that moment, he knew that it was impossible, but he still vaguely hoped in his heart that no one would agree to him. Immediately, however, a voice answered, this one crisp and decisive, as if reading a prepared speech. The Prime Minister knew from the first cough that it was coming from the little frog-like man in a long silver wig who was the figure of a small dirty oil painting in the corner of the room.

"To the Muggle Prime Minister, ask for an urgent meeting. Please reply immediately, Phoenix-Peverell, the British Interim Representative of the Wizengamot. The man in the painting looked at the Prime Minister inquiringly.

Before the prime minister could speak, the little man spoke.

"Wait another five minutes, he's waiting for someone. ”

"Well," said the Prime Minister helplessly, "I-oh-well,"

To be honest, the Prime Minister is not at all willing to deal with these people, and they usually come to see him because something bad has happened. And it's a little strange that Fudge didn't come to see him this time. The Prime Minister had many dealings with Fudge, though none of them were pleasant.

He still vividly remembered the first time they met, as if it had just happened yesterday, and he knew that he would never forget that memory until he died.

He was standing alone in this office, savoring the joy of success after so many years of dreaming and planning, when suddenly, he heard a cough from behind him, just like tonight, and he turned to see that it was the ugly little portrait talking to him, announcing that the Minister of Magic was coming to visit him.

Naturally, he thought it was a long campaign and election pressure that had caused him to go a little insane. He found that a portrait was indeed terrified when he spoke to him, and then he was even more frightened when a man claiming to be a wizard jumped out of the fireplace and shook his hand. Without saying a word, Fudge kindly explained that there were still wizards living secretly all over the world, and reassured him that he didn't have to worry about these things, as the Ministry of Magic had a responsibility to govern the wizarding world as a whole and keep their existence from the non-wizarding community. Fudge said it was quite a difficult job, almost everything from dictating how to use the broomstick responsibly and responsibly, to controlling and governing all the fire dragons (the prime minister remembers that when he heard this, he couldn't help but hold on to the table so that he wouldn't fall). After Fudge finished speaking, he patted the still dumbfounded Prime Minister on the shoulder like a loving father.

"Don't worry," he said, "you'll probably never see me again." I'll only bother you if there's serious trouble on our side that might affect Muggles, even the non-wizarding crowd. Other than that, you just go with the flow. By the way, I have to say that you are much more accepting of this than your predecessor. He thought I was a liar sent by his political enemies to throw me out the window. ”

At this time, the prime minister finally found an opportunity to speak.

"So, you're not a liar?"

It was his only remaining hope.

"No," Fudge said mildly, "I'm sorry, I'm not. You see. ”

With a wave of his wand, he turned the Prime Minister's teacup into a gerbil.

"But," said the Prime Minister, looking at his teacup as he nibbled on his next speech, breathlessly, "but why—why didn't anyone tell me—?"

"The Minister of Magic only reveals his identity in front of the ruling Muggle Prime Minister. Fudge said, inserting his wand back into his clothes, "We think it's best for keeping things hidden." ”

"But," said the Prime Minister in a trembling voice, "why didn't the former Prime Minister remind me?"

Hearing this, Fudge actually laughed out loud.

"My dear Prime Minister, are you going to tell someone?"

Still smiling, Fudge threw some powder into the fireplace, stepped into the emerald flame, and with a snort, it was gone. The Prime Minister stood motionless, he knew that as long as he was alive, he would never dare to mention this meeting to anyone, and who would believe him in this world?

He straightened his tie and adjusted his facial expression to be as relaxed and composed as he had hoped, when he saw a bright green flame suddenly erupt from the empty grate beneath the marble fireplace. The Prime Minister tried to hide his surprise and panic as he watched as a sturdy, short-haired boy appeared in the middle of the flames, spinning like a spinning top. A few seconds later, the boy stepped over the grate and stood on a fine carpet of antique color, followed by a tall, balding, dark-skinned man.

"Hello, Prime Minister," Phoenix said, striding over and holding out a hand, "it's a pleasure to meet you." Phoenix Peverell, Temporary Representative of the Wizengamot, United Kingdom, I am here to update you on the situation at the behest of the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeur. Shakel, you go and guard the outside first. ”

The tall wizard nodded, and walked out the door.

"Listen, I don't want to be watched. The Prime Minister said annoyedly.

"I hope no one disturbs me, someone will come soon," Phoenix drew his wand and pointed to the window, the blinds closed neatly, "a lot has happened lately-"

"How old are you?" said the prime minister, still puffing up his breath.

"Well—it's about to be sixteenth birthday. Phoenix beckoned two glasses of wine, one of which he pushed into the prime minister's hand, and then dragged over a chair.

"You-I mean, wizards can work in government at such a young age?" said the Prime Minister, grimacing. Back in front of his seat, stand and look down at him.

"Not usually, but given my status, it would be most appropriate for me to bring you to this meeting. ”

"What meeting?" the Prime Minister hesitated.

"I'll start at the beginning, I'll give you an update," Phoenix took a sip of his wine, "Last Saturday night, Voldemort brought people into the Ministry of Magic - you know who he is, right?"

"Yes. "The Prime Minister remembers that Fudge was terrified of the name.

"He led people into the Ministry of Magic, causing heavy casualties, and Fudge has been killed—"

"Oh my God!" the prime minister slumped into the chair behind him.

He remembered that Fudge had said that Voldemort was a powerful and ruthless wizard. He shuddered when he thought of the Azkaban prison break that Fudge had briefed him on a few months earlier.

"That's it, the British wizarding world is currently at war. (To be continued.) )