Chapter 491: Cornelius Fudge

“Can you teach me? Wizard Sean—”

Harry said excitedly.

Before Wizard Sean could answer, Mr. Stan came over humming a tune.

He casually interrupted their conversation.

He seemed to remember that both Harry and Wizard Sean had paid for hot chocolate, so he carried the chocolate syrup down the narrow aisle.

An accident happened just then.

The car suddenly jumped from Anglesey to Aberdeen, and Stan spilled all the chocolate onto Harry’s pillow.

While Harry sat stunned, Wizard Sean instinctively guided the spilled chocolate back into the cup.

“That’s an exquisite wandless charm! Merlin—Mr. Green, truly—”

Stan clapped his hands in front of Harry.

“Hey—”

Harry wanted to say something angry.

“Neville, sorry, I’ll get you another serving—”

Stan turned to Harry for about a second, then turned back.

“Incredible—Mr. Green!”

As Harry sat down again, grumbling, the wizards in their robes and slippers began descending from the upper deck and leaving the car.

They all seemed eager to get off as soon as possible.

Finally, only Harry and Wizard Sean remained as passengers.

“Can I go to London now?”

Harry asked.

“Of course, Neville, we’ll talk later—Mr. Green, where are you headed?”

Stan asked Wizard Sean as if Harry weren’t there, speaking with deference.

“We’re going to London together.”

Harry said, as if resigned.

“That’s splendid, Neville,”

Stan clapped his hands and said,

“Where in London?”

He finally asked Harry.

“Diagon Alley.”

Harry said.

“Right then,”

Stan said,

“Hold on tight—go...”

Boom! They shot past Charing Cross.

Harry sat up, watching the buildings and benches on the windowside squeeze to one side to make way for the Knight Bus.

The sky was beginning to lighten.

Ernie slammed on the brakes, and the Knight Bus stopped in front of a shabby little pub—the Leaky Cauldron—whose back entrance led to the mysterious passage to Diagon Alley.

“Thank you.”

Harry said to Ernie. He stepped off the steps and helped Stan carry his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the sidewalk.

“Alright,”

Harry stepped out of the bus first and said,

“Goodbye!”

But Stan ignored Harry.

He still stood at the bus door, staring wide-eyed at the dark entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

“There you are, Harry.”

A voice said. Before Harry could turn, a hand landed on his shoulder.

At the same time, Stan shouted:

“Good heavens! Ernie, come quick! Come!”

Harry looked up at the hand’s owner—a man with a peculiar appearance.

The stranger was short and stout, with messy gray hair and an anxious expression.

His clothing was a bizarre mix:

A pinstripe suit, a bright red tie, a long black cloak, and purple pointed boots. Under his arm he carried a dark green top hat.

Stan leapt onto the sidewalk and stood beside them.

“What are you calling Neville, Minister?”

He asked excitedly.

The short, stout man wore a long striped cloak and looked cold and tired.

“Neville?”

He frowned and said,

“This is Harry Potter.”

“I knew it!”

For the first time, Stan looked at Harry with solemn eyes—but Harry felt no joy.

What had Stan just called him?

Minister?

What minister?

A terrible premonition stirred in Harry’s mind.

And Stan continued gleefully:

“Ernie! Ernie! Guess who Neville is, Ernie! It’s Harry Potter!

Ah, bigwigs never like to reveal their names—

Jia Jia Siting is Mr. Green, and Neville is Harry Potter!

I suspected it all along—I saw his scar!”

“Yes,”

Fudge said impatiently,

“I’m glad the Knight Bus brought Harry, but now I need to enter the Leaky Cauldron with him...”

Fudge tightened his grip on Harry’s shoulder.

“But what Mr. Green?”

Fudge was always hypersensitive to names.

“Mr. Green, look—he’s right here—”

As Stan spoke, a black-haired young wizard stepped down from the Knight Bus’s long staircase.

“It’s you—Mr. Green—”

Harry felt the pressure on his shoulder ease, and the “Minister” emitted the most oily, smooth voice Harry had ever heard.

This was Wizard Sean’s first time seeing Fudge.

And Fudge’s first time seeing Wizard Sean.

Of course, they had seen each other’s faces in newspapers countless times, but never face to face like this.

“Minister Fudge.”

Wizard Sean said slowly.

The short, stout man before him squinted as if hearing sweet nothings.

“Oh, yes, Minister—but these days, being Minister isn’t easy.”

Fudge squinted, his face twisting into a knot,

“And you, Mr. Green—if you were me, would you take the job?”

Fudge had imagined a thousand scenarios of meeting Mr. Green, but never while dealing with an escaped prisoner.

Mr. Green—that ridiculous title people used for him.

To the alchemists’ old madmen, he was Hermes returned in glory; but to him, Cornelius Fudge, he only recalled the rumor he himself had helped spread—

The greatest wizard of the future, surpassing Dumbledore.

How thrilling—Dumbledore had a rival, not some madman like Voldemort, but a legitimate wizard raised by the MacGonagall and Prince families.

Whether he liked it or not, the British magical world already had a solid faction of supporters for him.

In the past, the British magical world had only one famous name: Dumbledore.

As for Fudge?

He knew well his own name only held weight because of Dumbledore.

But now things were different—Dumbledore had a rival.

His own name would soon matter.

“Mr. Green, come with me… To be honest, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time…”

Fudge said, shoving Harry into the pub.

Wizard Sean followed silently, wondering whether the Minister seemed overly enthusiastic.

At the door behind the pub, a hunched figure emerged, holding a lantern.

It was Tom, the gaunt, toothless landlord.

“You found him, Minister!”

Tom said,

“What would you like? Beer? Brandy?”

“Just a pot of tea,”

Fudge replied, squinting at Wizard Sean while still gripping Harry tightly.

Loud scraping and heavy breathing came from behind Wizard Sean—Stan and Ern had reappeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage, gazing around excitedly.

“Why didn’t you tell us who you were, eh, Neville?”

Stan grinned at Harry, while Ern’s owl-like face peered curiously over Stan’s shoulder.

“Get us a private room, Tom.”

Fudge said bluntly.

“Goodbye.”

Harry now realized which Minister this was.

He sadly told Stan and Ern, as Tom led Fudge toward the passage beside the bar.

“Goodbye, Neville!”

Stan called out.

Fudge pushed Harry through the narrow passage behind Tom’s lantern, into a small private room.

Tom snapped his fingers; flames burst up in the hearth. He bowed and withdrew from the room.

“Sit down, Harry.”

Fudge pointed to a chair beside the fireplace. Harry sat, though the heat did nothing to stop the goosebumps rising on his arms.

“Please wait a moment, Mr. Green. I must attend to some matters—soon.”

Fudge glanced sideways at Wizard Sean, then fixed his gaze on Harry.

Look at Fudge’s expression—he regarded Wizard Sean with tolerance, but scrutinized Harry.

Harry felt he was finished.

Using magic outside school had surely been blamed on him.