Chapter 411: The Era of Fudge Has Ended (Edited)

"Thank you~" Hermione gently wiped the traces of moisture from her fingers with a napkin.

"That's how a good boy behaves." She stroked Tom's head and gave him a little tap on the chin. "Come on, tell me where you've been this afternoon."

Every gesture and smile from Hermione exuded a special charm, tickling Tom's heart as if there was a mischievous and restless cat inside him.

Upon hearing Hermione's question, Tom shared with her what he had just done.

"Oh, really?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So, our busy man is involved in changing the Prime Minister now? You've just backed the Minister of Magic, and now you're getting entangled in the whirlwind of the British Prime Minister. You really are something."

Hermione voiced her thoughts aloud. She couldn't quite believe that her boyfriend had the audacity to consider matters that shouldn't be on the mind of someone his age.

Would an average young wizard even think, "This Minister of Magic is too weak; I'll have to replace him"? Most of them are thinking, "What are we having for lunch?" or "I haven't finished the homework due tomorrow" or even "Who can lend me their homework to copy?" Even thinking about finding a girlfriend would be considered mature for them.

"Adapt to circumstances, act according to circumstances," Tom didn't regard his behavior as anything noteworthy. He simply knew a bit more information than others and was skilled at capitalizing on the lack of information.

Hermione picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet from a nearby chair and handed it to Tom.

"Fudge is finished," she whispered.

Tom read the article, which discussed how Fudge had finally abandoned the large-scale search for Peter Pettigrew and decided to offer a twenty-thousand-galleon reward for his capture.

Tom knew that this news would cause a major stir in the wizarding world.

And it did.

Although it was Christmas, some unlucky individuals still had to work at the Ministry of Magic. However, the bustling and hurried atmosphere that used to be was completely absent. Employees had a lazy look and were engaged in anything but work.

Instead of the chimneys that used to spit out people every few seconds, they were now quiet and burning like any other common fireplace. The magnificent atrium was empty, except for the fountain in the center that continued to work diligently.

The sound of bubbling water in the empty atrium even created an echo.

To the left of the atrium was a table with a sign that read "Security Check." Behind it sat a witch in a peacock blue robe with slightly disheveled hair, idly trimming her nails.

Suddenly, a fireplace in the atrium burst into green flames, and a wizard came rushing out of it, holding a folder and a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet.

"What's happening? Why are you so flustered?" The witch knew the wizard and asked with a smile. "Is there a leak in your office ceiling?"

The wizard turned very pale and shook his head. "I wish it were just a leak in the ceiling... see for yourself, I'm in a hurry..."

He left the newspaper on the witch's table and hastily departed.

The witch looked at the newspaper curiously. The bold and capitalized word "shame" caught her attention. She was surprised for a moment, and before she could react, an owl flew in from outside and landed on her table.

Upon seeing what the owl carried in its claws, the witch's face changed drastically. The owl had delivered a Howler.

She knew how dangerous that thing was, so she quickly opened the letter, and a shrill female voice echoed in the Ministry of Magic's atrium.

But that wasn't all; one after another, owls flew into the Ministry of Magic, leaving Howlers behind and startling the witch, who quickly fled.

Soon, the atrium was bustling with activity.

At that moment, the fireplaces on both sides of the atrium began to blaze with green flames, and figure after figure emerged from the flames.

But as soon as they entered, they covered their ears due to the deafening cacophony in the atrium.

The Howlers turned into ashes one after another, as if they would never end. The noise lasted for several hours, during which most of the Ministry of Magic officials interrupted their vacations and rushed to the Ministry from their homes.

However, no one attempted to stop the self-burning Howlers. Everyone watched in silence as this unfolded. Amelia also arrived and gestured to some people. The officials finally reacted, and a group of them silently turned and entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, not knowing what they were going to do there.

But there were still many people who remained frozen in place, as if they had been hit with a freezing charm.

Finally, the last Howler also turned to ashes and fell onto the messy floor. At that moment, the magnificent atrium of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which used to be glorious, looked like it had been through a major battle.

Fudge was already there, standing in front of a fireplace, looking dazed at everything happening. Umbridge approached his side and tried to speak to him several times, but he ignored her. Finally, even Umbridge fell silent.

Fudge knew the origin of all this: the wizards of the British wizarding world were venting their frustration. They feared the escape of Voldemort's followers, and that fear turned into hatred for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's ineffectiveness. The wizards held back and only sent screaming letters.

"I, we..." Fudge cleared his throat after the echoes in the atrium had completely faded, wanting to say something, but realizing the looks from his staff around him, he fell completely silent.

Their gazes were strange; when they looked at him, it seemed like they were seeing a lamb waiting to be sacrificed.

"Minister," Amelia interrupted Fudge's words. "As the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I will submit a vote of no confidence against you."

Fudge remained silent, and the entire atrium fell into a deathly silence.

He remained silent for a long time and finally let out a long sigh. This sigh echoed even in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's atrium.

"Amelia, you are a competent witch." After sighing, Fudge seemed to have aged ten years in an instant, his body hunched, and even his belly seemed to have shrunk a bit.

He wanted to say more but choked up. Finally, he stopped speaking, turned around, and walked to the fireplace.

"Arrange a hearing yourselves, just send me an owl with the results." After saying that, his figure disappeared into the green fire of the fireplace.

The people present watched him leave. Everyone understood that Fudge's era had come to an end. Amelia looked at Fudge's desolate figure and felt sorry.

"Clean up the atrium and prepare for the elections." However, she quickly suppressed her internal emotions and gave orders to the officials surrounding her.