Under normal circumstances, extradition matters were jointly handled by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Department of International Magical Cooperation.
Since this case involved extraditing a hippogriff, the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures would simply be added in. It had nothing to do with the Minister.
Unless, of course, the extradition concerned a major criminal—like Grindelwald. Back when Grindelwald was extradited, it had been personally handled by the President of the Magical Congress of the United States.
But now, for the extradition of a hippogriff, they had come directly to negotiate with the Minister of Magic—did they think the Minister had nothing better to do?
It was unclear how busy ministers in other countries were, but Cornelius Fudge had indeed been quite free lately. There was no need to hunt down Sirius Black anymore, and Peter Pettigrew had been tied up and handed over by Dumbledore. Everything had been served up to him on a plate—no effort required.
The wrongful conviction from twelve years ago hadn't caused much impact on the Ministry either, and instead had helped Fudge establish an image of fairness and integrity.
With one hand gaining both fame and profit, and the other firmly suppressing his competitors, the Minister had been in an excellent mood lately—so much so that he even had time, amid his "busy schedule," to come and watch the execution of a hippogriff.
"Henry, was it?" Fudge flicked the document in his hand and said, "You can go back to London and discuss this with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It's just a hippogriff."
Buckbeak—Fudge was determined to have it killed. Not even Merlin could save it, the Minister had said so!
"Thank you very much, Minister," Henry said with a polite, formulaic smile. "My colleagues are currently at the Ministry in London. The message they sent was that we should negotiate directly with you."
Henry pointed toward Buckbeak, which was tied up in the pumpkin patch, eating ferrets, and continued, "Because that beast that injured someone is right there. From what my compatriots have told me, it is about to be executed."
"Perfect," Fudge said with a smile. "You can stay and witness the execution. If that's not enough, you can even take its corpse back with you."
At the end of the day, it was just a hippogriff. Fudge couldn't understand why the French side was so fixated on this matter. In several cases involving hippogriff attacks, there had been signs of French involvement behind the scenes—what exactly were they trying to achieve? What was the point?
"Thank you for your generosity, Minister," Henry continued, still flattering Fudge. "But the situation is somewhat complicated. The creature injured the heir of an important figure, so that person wishes to personally witness the execution."
To cut off any objections from Fudge, Henry added, "However, this important figure cannot come to Britain—and you wouldn't want her to appear here either."
The initial trial, the verdict, the appeal, and the upheld judgment had already made one thing clear: in the British Isles, the outsider Rosiers couldn't beat the local Malfoys. A powerful dragon can't suppress the local snake.
So why was there still this scene today? Why had Henry Rosier personally come? Was it to prove that the Rosiers were stronger than the Malfoys? Or simply unwilling to accept the outcome?
Neither. There were no disputes, no family feuds. It was simply that they found the Malfoys unpleasant. Vinda and Eda wouldn't force the Rosiers to do something like this—but this time, it had been Vincent Rosier who took the lead.
They were both young masters from pure-blood families—so what, was the Rosier family somehow inferior? Draco was precious, and the Rosiers were nothing but grass? Under the guidance of someone with intentions, young master Vincent sounded the horn of attack, and thus the French Ministry of Magic's extradition documents ended up in Fudge's hands.
If not for this extradition document, Eda's plan had been to let Hagrid secretly release Buckbeak, then deny everything afterward. Dumbledore might not go all out to save a magical creature, but he certainly wouldn't ignore Hagrid being thrown into Azkaban.
"Of course, I know this creature injured the son of the Malfoy family, but the judgment here has already been concluded, hasn't it?" Henry continued. "But our judgment hasn't even begun yet. Please be lenient and don't make things difficult for those of us just doing our jobs."
The meaning was clear: your British Ministry has given the Malfoys an explanation, but our French Ministry hasn't settled its own account yet! Don't laugh at others when you're in the same boat—help a colleague out when it matters!
"Who did this creature injure?" Fudge had already noticed Eda, her arm wrapped in bandages—such a distinctive appearance was hard to miss.
"The person happens to be someone you know, Minister—it's her, Esmeralda Twist." Henry pointed toward Eda in the crowd behind him. Eda cooperated by clutching her left arm, putting on an expression of pain, as if she were about to die.
That exaggerated expression was so over-the-top even veteran actors would want to curse—clearly she had learned it from Draco Malfoy.
Dumbledore watched the show with ease. The headmaster had thought this entire performance was designed by Eda, but in reality, she had only found out about it a few days ago. Hagrid, on the other hand, was completely confused—when had Eda arrived? And how could she have been injured by Buckbeak? It made no sense at all!
The more the Minister watched, the clearer it became. At first, Fudge had thought the Rosiers were opposing the Malfoys due to some conflict, but now it was obvious that wasn't the case.
At the beginning, it might have just been about venting anger, but now it had turned into a matter of saving face.
To be a successful Minister of Magic, one had to maintain good relations with pure-blood families. This was also one of the reasons the Malfoys could influence the handling of cases. There were no Rosiers left in Britain, so Fudge had felt no pressure in fully supporting the Malfoys.
But now that they had crossed the sea to reclaim their lost face, did he really want to continue offending them? Fudge had already made up his mind.
As for Eda, the Minister truly couldn't stand watching any longer—her acting was painfully bad. If her bandages and plaster were removed, there probably wouldn't be a single wound on her arm.
Kids these days—bad acting aside, they weren't even willing to endure hardship. A tiny scrape on a finger and they'd run to St. Mungo's. Pathetic.
"Take this creature away. Handle all the necessary paperwork yourselves at the Ministry. I'm tired," Fudge said with a wave of his hand, turning to leave.
Dumbledore accompanied the Minister as they walked away, saying, "Cornelius, I recently acquired a bottle of mead with an excellent flavor. Let's have a few drinks later…"
"Minister! Minister!" Macnair shouted loudly, hoping Fudge would change his mind. He had come here to execute something—whether it was a hippogriff or anything else, he had to be allowed to chop something!
Hearing Macnair's shout, Fudge suddenly stopped. But before Macnair could feel overjoyed, he realized he had been overthinking—Fudge wasn't looking at him at all.
Fudge had stopped not because of Macnair, but to ask Henry, "Young man, your name is…?"
"Rosier, Minister," Henry replied with a flawless smile. "Henry Rosier."
The Minister nodded and left under Dumbledore's accompaniment—perhaps truly going for a drink, or perhaps leaving Hogwarts altogether.
On the open ground outside the hut, Hagrid still looked completely bewildered, but he knew that Buckbeak wouldn't die today. Macnair, however, was furious, staring fixedly at Buckbeak's neck.
"Executioner, there's nothing for you to do here anymore," Eda stepped forward and said. "If you really need to chop something, you can chop the pumpkins in the field. Professor Hagrid is very generous—he won't ask you for compensation!"
Hagrid nodded blankly and added, "That's right—as long as you don't touch Buckbeak, you can chop whatever you like!"
Enraged, Macnair raised his executioner's axe high and brought it down with force. A massive pumpkin was instantly split into two, its juice splattering all over him.
Henry's companion walked past the juice-covered Macnair and led Buckbeak away from the pumpkin patch. Although there was no real need to seize the hippogriff, the proper procedures still had to be followed.
As for what would happen afterward—that would be decided later. Perhaps during the extradition process, the "criminal" Buckbeak might escape while the guards weren't paying attention. Or perhaps, after a trial in France, it would be executed there.
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