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The Minister for Magic's Office.
Cornelius Fudge sat behind his desk, half-heartedly listening to Umbridge, who stood before him reporting the annual Floo Network maintenance budget for the Department of Magical Transportation, while he quickly flipped through the newly delivered The Daily Prophet in his hands.
His gaze swept over the front-page report on Gringotts' new security measures, skipped past a photo of a shop opening ceremony in Diagon Alley, and landed on a commentary piece that took up a significant amount of space.
The headline suddenly pierced his eyes: "Should the Current Minister for Magic Step Down?" — Rita Skeeter.
The smile on Fudge's face froze instantly.
He quickly scanned the first few lines, and the color drained from his face, turning a pig-liver purple at a rate visible to the naked eye.
Umbridge was still prattling on:
"...Therefore, I suggest increasing the budget by another five percent to ensure the absolute safety and smooth operation of our Wizarding World's main transportation artery. This will undoubtedly be another significant manifestation of political achievement under your wise leadership, Minister..."
"Useless!"
An angry shout interrupted Umbridge's flattery.
Fudge slammed the newspaper violently onto the floor.
He stood up abruptly, his spittle nearly flying into Umbridge's face across the desk.
"They're all useless! What on earth are the Ministry's Aurors doing?! And those brainless Dementors! One Sirius Black and two werewolves—and after hunting them for so long, they haven't even touched a single hair! Is Azkaban a public toilet? People come and go as they please?!"
Fudge's voice echoed in the empty office.
"The Daily Prophet questions me every day about what measures I'm taking! The public is questioning the Ministry's efficiency! I'm almost unable to keep things under control with the International Confederation of Wizards! Useless! All of them are useless!"
Umbridge was silenced by this sudden outburst, but after a brief pause, her mind quickly shifted into its most practiced mode—pandering and appeasing.
"M-Minister, please calm down; you must take care of your health."
She bent down to pick up the newspaper from the floor.
"Those fugitives are nothing more than rats in the gutter; sooner or later, they will be brought to justice by the brave Aurors. As for those ignorant comments from people who don't know the truth... they are simply not worth an esteemed figure like you getting angry over."
As she spoke, she quickly glanced at the newspaper in her hand.
Rita Skeeter's flamboyant writing style hit her immediately.
The article was merciless, practically stripping Fudge's career as Minister down to the bone:
"Under Minister Fudge's 'highly effective' leadership, Azkaban, a fortress that should have been impregnable, has seen two jaw-dropping mass breakouts in a short period. The Auror Office's capture operations have been as sluggish as if they were hit by a Petrificus Totalus..."
"It is reported that Minister Fudge 'generously' awarded himself an Order of Merlin, First Class, to commend his 'outstanding contributions to maintaining the safety of the Wizarding World.' Such a self-directed act of self-glorification has truly tarnished the ancient honor of the Order of Merlin..."
"Furthermore, figures in the education sector have pointed out with distress that Minister Fudge has cut funding for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry year after year, leading to a worrying stagnation—or even decline—in the teaching quality of this thousand-year-old prestigious school..."
"Looking across Minister Fudge's term, aside from skillfully attending various ribbon-cutting ceremonies and delivering empty speeches, it is truly difficult to list any substantive political achievements that could go down in history and benefit ordinary Wizards..."
Umbridge's eyelids twitched as she read, inwardly cursing Rita as a troublemaker.
"Oh, Minister~ Don't you know that woman Rita Skeeter? She's best at catching shadows and making things up, relying on sensationalism to make a living.
The things she writes wouldn't even be taken seriously by a House-elf. Everyone in the Ministry and throughout the Wizarding World knows what kind of person you are. There's no need to get angry over such groundless slander; it's not worth upsetting yourself."
Fudge's chest heaved violently. The problem was... most of what she said was, damn it, true!
The breakouts couldn't be denied, he had insisted on the medal himself, the education funding had indeed been cut by him under the pretext of "economic difficulties," and as for political achievements... he really couldn't think of anything worth writing home about.
"This matter," Fudge said, looking up at Umbridge, "must be resolved. There must be... a sufficiently weighty, positive event that can divert everyone's attention. Do you have any ideas?"
Umbridge's mind began to work at high speed; she needed to propose a plan that was both pleasing to the Minister and feasible.
Suddenly, her toad-like eyes lit up as an idea occurred to her.
"Minister... do you remember the... Triwizard Tournament from many, many years ago?" she asked cautiously, observing Fudge's reaction.
Fudge frowned, trying to search his memory.
"Triwizard? That's ancient history from how many years ago? And wasn't it discontinued because it was too dangerous? I want a solution to the current problem!"
"What I mean is," Umbridge took a small step forward, "we could... restart it. And not just limit it to the three schools in Europe. We could expand it into a true international magical event!"
Fudge's fingers tapping the desk stopped. He narrowed his eyes and began to seriously consider the proposal.
Umbridge struck while the iron was hot. "Think about it, Minister. For you to lead the restart and expansion of this legendary, long-standing tournament—what a dazzling diplomatic and educational achievement that would be!
It will show the whole world a new image of the British Ministry of Magic as open, progressive, and committed to the cultivation of young Wizards! Successfully hosting such an event would, in itself, be the most powerful proof of your leadership.
If it is exceptionally successful, perhaps the International Confederation of Wizards—or even the Order of Merlin—would consider awarding you another medal."
Fudge's eyes grew brighter and brighter.
"Hmm... that idea... is very constructive. Dolores, I'll leave you to take the lead on this. Be sure to come up with a feasible plan as soon as possible."
"It is my honor to serve you, Minister!" Umbridge gave a deep bow, her voice sickly sweet.
---
A few days later, Hogwarts Castle.
A Thestral-drawn carriage bearing the Ministry of Magic's crest landed on the grounds in front of the Castle.
Cornelius Fudge, escorted by several Aurors, walked toward the Castle gates.
The Principal's Office.
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, calmly looking at Fudge across from him.
"Dumbledore, long time no see! The last time we met was at—"
"Let's get straight to business, Cornelius," Dumbledore interrupted gently.
Fudge's smile froze on his face. The prepared pleasantries were choked back, making him feel a surge of annoyance. But thinking of his political achievements...
"Very well, Dumbledore, to keep a long story short." Fudge leaned forward, adopting a confidential posture. "The Ministry of Magic, after careful consideration, has decided to restart the Triwizard—oh, perhaps it should be called the Six-Wizard Tournament now. We hope Hogwarts can participate as one of the hosts."
Dumbledore listened quietly, his face showing no surprise, only nodding slightly to signal him to continue.
This unruffled demeanor made Fudge feel a bit uncertain.
"Currently, our preliminary communication with the various schools... has made some progress, though we've also encountered some minor trouble."
Fudge weighed his words. "Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have already agreed; they are very interested. However... Uagadou, Ilvermorny, and Castelobruxo are acting more... cautious."
"They have proposed sending a group of students to Hogwarts first for a period of exchange and study, to experience it firsthand before deciding whether to officially participate in the tournament."
He paused, observing Dumbledore's reaction, before presenting the real request. "So, Dumbledore, you see, this exchange has become very critical."
"It directly relates to whether the Six-Wizard Tournament can be successfully held, and to the image and influence of our British Wizarding World internationally. As the host, Hogwarts has a difficult task and great significance!"
Dumbledore listened quietly until he finished, then turned his gaze out the window.
"Cornelius, as the Principal of Hogwarts, I should naturally support the Ministry's measures to promote international magical education exchange. For young Wizards, this is undoubtedly a good opportunity to broaden their horizons."
Fudge felt a surge of joy, but Dumbledore's next words made his smile freeze again.
"But you must also understand the concerns of the other schools. The Principals of each school must be responsible for their students. And given the current situation at Hogwarts and its surroundings... I'm afraid it can hardly be called a reassuring environment."
Fudge's expression shifted.
He naturally knew that Dementors were unwelcome here; in fact, Dumbledore had strongly opposed them from the start. But this was something he had forcibly deployed earlier to show "great importance" regarding Sirius Black's escape.
A brief silence fell over the office. After a few moments of internal struggle, Fudge finally gritted his teeth and made a decision.
"I understand your concerns, Dumbledore." Fudge tried to make his voice sound sincere. "To ensure this international exchange activity, as well as the tournament that may follow, can proceed... I have decided to withdraw the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade."
Dumbledore looked at Fudge silently for a few seconds.
Then he slowly nodded.