"Albus, Professor Dumbledore, as you know, I have always trusted you, without reservation."
In Dumbledore's office, the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was standing in front of Dumbledore's desk, fiddling with the bowler he held. It was a scene that resembled that of a schoolboy being called into the office by his teacher.
However, there were still two people standing beside Fudge. One was tall, strong-looking, with short grayish-white hair, and serious. It was one of Fudge's bodyguards, the Ministry elite, John Dawlish, who had graduated from Hogwarts with distinctions in all his N.E.W.T. If Dawlish was a talented man, the other person Fudge had brought with him was a little hard to describe.
She was short and plump, with short curly ratty brown hair and wore a big scary pink bow tiara, and to make matters worse, she was also a middle-aged aunt wearing a pink sweater, which was only worn by women in their early twenties. With her big pancake face, rough skin, bags under her eyes and big toad mouth, she looked like a Disney princess on the run from the third dimension: the frog princess.
She was Fudge's confidante, the Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic, Dolores Umbridge. A woman whose very sight made Professor McGonagall physically uncomfortable.
Dumbledore was not alone, as the school's Vice Principal, Professor McGonagall, was forced to be present when the Minister of Magic arrived. Of course, her presence made the atmosphere feel less like a conference and more like a negotiation.
At that point, Umbridge picked up the conversation where Fudge left off, coughed softly and cleared her throat, and Fudge stopped rambling and looked at Umbridge with a smile.
"The Ministry's approach to Hogwarts has always been to offer the most and best help possible, but the Ministry also has to serve the wider British magical community. Recently, we have received news that a three-headed dog and a Troll have appeared at Hogwarts Castle and that the lives and safety of hundreds of students are in grave danger. Of course, we consider such claims to be absurd and vile slander without any sense of honor..."
"Then why are they here?" Professor McGonagall couldn't help but sputter.
"Oh?" Umbridge seemed to have heard something strange, she looked surprised, "Answer! Minerva, answer! We are a serious and responsible organization, the Minister and many Ministry officials work day and night for the basic good of the magical community, so if someone proposes this, we have to respond. Don't worry, Minerva, it's just a 'routine inspection'..."
"So you're going to conduct a search of Hogwarts?" Professor McGonagall understood what he meant.
"In principle, yes, I find your reaction a little disconcerting," Umbridge gave a 'sweet' smile, "We have a saying out there that if people don't know what they're doing, they don't know what they're doing wrong. To be honest, the Ministry of Magic never knew what Hogwarts was doing..."
Then, ignoring Professor McGonagall's ugly face, she turned directly to Fudge.
Fudge gave a mock look of regret, then, without hesitation, pulled out a warrant and launched into a search of Hogwarts. They headed straight for Hagrid's hut. After all, Hagrid had a criminal record! He had kept a dangerous Acromantula when he was at school, and thus had caused the death of a student. After being expelled, he is said to still be at Hogwarts, and has a strange affinity for magical creatures of all kinds.
So, who else is going to be investigated? If there was a real problem with him, the Ministry could use him as an excuse to send an official to supervise the magical animals at Hogwarts.
Several people entered Hagrid's hut, however, to Fudge's dismay, there was nothing unusual about it, it looked like an ordinary hunter's hut.
"Why are there so many bottles of brandy and dead chickens?" Dawlish looked with some curiosity at the brandy bottles stuffed in the cupboards and the dead chickens hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen.
Hagrid said, "I've heard that brandy with chicken blood in it is good for replenishing the body, so I made some."
Dawlish looked at Hagrid's magnificent body and wondered, "Do you still need a tonic?".
But then he realized something, walked over and coughed twice, "Well, tonic, you mean... That kind of tonic?".
Hagrid was a little confused, but nodded his head.
Dawlish thought for a moment and grabbed a bottle of chicken-blood brandy from the kitchen, "Can I have one?" He asked expectantly, and Hagrid had no reason to stop him.
Dawlish came gaily out of the cottage with his bottle of brandy in his arms. Fudge frowned, thinking it wasn't that simple, and then took one too. It was said to be good for the body, so let's try it! If it worked, he could take another batch.
But there was no way two bottles of brandy would stop the search. As they left the house, Umbridge made another suggestion, "I heard Headmaster Dumbledore tell the students at the beginning of the year that "anyone who doesn't want to die a painful death in an accident should not enter the corridor to the right of the third floor," I don't quite understand what that means, but in that case, would you mind if we went there? With a wizard like you around, we won't have any accidents, will we?"
In his opinion, the third floor corridor was very suspicious, and if the three-headed dog was hiding there, then it all made sense. Why would anyone go in and die a horrible, painful death? Because they would be eaten by the three-headed dog, of course!
Everyone instantly filled with energy and ran up to the third floor in a flurry. As bureaucrats who spent a lot of time in an office, it was difficult for them to reach the third floor. By the time they reached the third floor, everyone's breathing was a bit labored.
Dumbledore opened the wooden door for Fudge himself with a straight face, revealing a ramshackle classroom with a rotting ceiling. There wasn't even dog shit, let alone a three-headed dog.
"The corridor needed renovation, but the school was short of money, so it was put on hold," Dumbledore said slowly, as if he were chatting, "For safety's sake, I closed this corridor."
Fudge's face immediately reddened. It was true that the Ministry of Magic had been cutting funding to Hogwarts year after year for the past two years, even scholarships for orphans and Muggle students had been deducted ...
Dawlish looked at Dumbledore quizzically, "A repair spell will take care of that." He pulled out his wand, "(Reparo)!"
There was no response, and even a piece of the ceiling came loose.
The atmosphere immediately became uncomfortable.