"You people are really cruel!"
Fudge's voice was sharp and miserable like a nightingale crying blood, but in old Barty's ears, it sounded like heavenly music.
He closed his eyes in intoxication, and the smile on his face grew heavier and heavier.
Using the identity of a Grindelwald Saint for external disguise was a plan Link had long since decided on.
And Fudge's reaction right now also proved to old Barty that Link's plan was absolutely correct.
With this big layer of cover, even if news about them leaks out, the International Confederation of Wizards or other forces will look for trouble with Grindelwald and Dumbledore first.
As for Link and the rest of them, the true culprits, they could still hide safely in the shadows and watch the show.
In this plan, Fudge was naturally one of the most miserable people.
But old Barty couldn't conjure up even a shred of sympathy for him.
After all, the essence of political struggle is this cruel.
Either the east wind crushes the west wind, or the west wind crushes the east wind.
Hadn't Fudge's persecution of him never stopped all these years?
Even in the matter of his family's ruin, Fudge and some fence-sitters had always been fanning the flames.
Of course, this was actually very normal.
If their positions were reversed, he would have made the same decisions.
Old Barty understood Fudge's actions very well.
Therefore, now that his west wind was beginning to crush the east wind, old Barty naturally believed that Fudge had no right to complain.
"Minister, the Ministry's work has been far too tedious lately. You're probably worn out. Although I truly admire your dedication in continuing to work despite your injuries, I still have to say, "
Old Barty paused here, blinked at Fudge, and said, "Just hand over all the unimportant tasks to us. You only need to handle the truly difficult ones."
At those words, the last gleam in Fudge's eyes finally went out, and his whole face turned deathly pale.
He understood that starting tonight, he was essentially under house arrest.
From here on, Barty Crouch Sr. would control the entire Ministry in his name.
As for those so-called "difficult" matters he had to deal with…
Whether something was "difficult" or not depended entirely on what they decided to call difficult.
Right now, he was basically a fat pig being carefully raised by Barty Crouch Sr. and his lot, just waiting to be slaughtered once he fattened up enough.
Old Barty left.
His demeanor was the opposite of the domineering attitude he had shown when walking in. Instead, he now appeared cautious and extremely respectful.
Before leaving, he not only closed the door, but even turned on the magical chandelier inside Fudge's office for him.
He felt that Fudge's heart should be terribly dark right now, so a bit of light might do him good.
After all, Fudge was their important scapegoat. If he killed himself early, it would be troublesome.
But just as he stepped out of the office, old Barty saw Percy standing in the corridor.
The young man was hidden in the darkness, glaring at him with a pair of cold, green eyes.
"Send this letter to Scrimgeour and issue it as an executive order."
Old Barty casually handed over the last letter in his hand.
Percy took it, but didn't move. Instead, he naturally tore it open and began reading it.
After a moment, his gaze turned even colder. In a voice as gloomy as thunder, he said, "You actually agreed to Fudge's decision to expand the Auror force? Why?!"
"There is no why," old Barty frowned. "Just carry it out."
Percy raised his voice several degrees, "Scrimgeour is our enemy!"
Old Barty shot back, completely unyielding, "But the Auror force is not! Not only are they not our enemy, they're an important power we'll use to fight the Death Eaters! And as for their loyalty after the Death Eaters fall, that's none of your concern! I have plenty of ways to make them offer their loyalty to us!"
"That loyalty is probably only toward you personally, isn't it?" Percy suddenly laughed.
"Don't think I don't know what you're plotting. You want to bypass Mr. Flamel and build your own private armed force."
"Then, when we're locked in a desperate fight with the Death Eaters, you'll use the chance to betray us, right? But you don't actually think you can succeed, do you?"
The frown on old Barty's face suddenly relaxed. With a blank expression, he said, "I really didn't realize you had a sense of humor. What is it? Stayed around Fudge too long and caught it from him?"
Percy's smile disappeared instantly.
He stuffed the letter into his robe and said viciously, "Just wait. I'll tell Mr. Flamel everything!"
Then Percy turned and left without hesitation.
"As you wish."
Old Barty watched Percy's figure fade into the darkness, speaking lightly, though mockery appeared in his eyes.
Once upon a time, Percy had been a boy who bowed and scraped before him, every word and action dripping with flattery.
But now he'd become like this.
Truthfully, old Barty wasn't surprised by Percy's change.
To maintain balance, Link had given Percy great authority.
Added to that, Percy had spent this whole time standing above others as an overseer by the Minister's side. After long enough, Percy naturally came to believe his power and status were enough to climb higher, to challenge stronger people.
Old Barty had seen many young men suddenly swollen with ambition like Percy.
And in his memory, not one had come to a good end.
Overreaching beyond one's ability was an old illness of the young.
With Percy's measly tricks, how could he possibly be a match for someone like him, who had survived decades in the political sea?
If he had bowed his head just from Percy's threats, he would've been devoured alive by Fudge more than ten years ago.
Shaking his head with a smile, old Barty pushed open the office door again.
Percy hadn't taken the letter to Scrimgeour at all, he was keeping it as leverage.
So old Barty had to ask Minister Fudge to write another.
———
What old Barty didn't know was that Percy wasn't merely threatening him.
Because early the next morning, Percy was already kneeling on one knee before Link.
And the letter he had taken from Fudge was right there with him at Flamel Castle.
Link was wearing a loose bathrobe, half-lying on a soft chair piled high with down pillows.
The letter about enlarging the Auror force had already been read and placed on the nearby tea table. What Link was holding now was today's Daily Prophet.
As the largest newspaper in Britain, The Daily Prophet usually tried to keep layouts compact while still looking proper.
After all, they needed more space to sell valuable ads.
But today's issue had lavishly used half a page to print a single magical photograph.
It was a photo of Diagon Alley taken yesterday noon.
The photographer must have risked his life to get extremely close to the battlefield.
So aside from the huge, writhing Dark Mark in the sky, the picture clearly showed Gringotts, already completely reduced to ruins, with a bottomless crater in its center.
And it wasn't just Gringotts that had been destroyed.
The entire core commercial district surrounding it had suffered catastrophic devastation.
Masked Death Eaters were laughing wildly as they blasted open the doors of one shop after another with their wands, rushing in and looting everything.
A little farther away in the same picture, you could even see a mob roasting a humanoid creature over a fire.
As the creature writhed and screamed, the mob around it cheered and swayed like lunatics.
At the top of the magical photo, bold, enlarged letters spelled out the headline, "Myth Shattered! Gringotts Pillaged!"
Putting down the Daily Prophet, Link closed his eyes.
From a purely academic standpoint, the article printed in the Daily Prophet was perfect.
Whether it was using a large picture to grab attention or pointing straight to the core content with the headline, it was all excellent writing technique.
Not to mention, the article also analyzed how Gringotts would not only have to compensate vault owners for their losses, but might even face a bank run due to damaged trust.
The article even boldly predicted that after this pillaging, Gringotts might have to over-issue currency, which would rapidly accelerate inflation in the British wizarding world and eventually trigger an economic crisis.
If it had any flaw at all, it was that the article still defined the incident as a robbery and labeled the Death Eaters as mere "thugs."
Even though countless people had personally witnessed the giant Dark Mark forming above Diagon Alley, the Daily Prophet still refused to revise its judgment.
This was great news.
This kind of situation, showing the flesh but not the face, was exactly what he wanted.
Link finally opened his eyes.
Smiling faintly, he looked at Percy kneeling quietly below and said, "You did very well."
"Mr. Flamel overpraises me! It is all for our great cause!" Percy's voice trembled with emotion, even though he had been kneeling for half an hour. "But Barty Crouch's wolfish ambition has already become obvious. Please be careful, Mr. Flamel!"
Link nodded.
He could also see Percy's rapidly growing ambition, his eyes climbing high while his hands remained weak.
But how was old Barty any different?
This old man who was supposed to have died long ago in the original story had also become swollen with arrogance thanks to the tiny bit of power in his hands.
In terms of judgment, old Barty was even dumber than Percy.
Because at least Percy still knew to respect the strong.
But old Barty? He had long forgotten that this was a world where personal power could overrule everything.
If you had power but no strength…
Then no matter how much he built behind the scenes, it was nothing but a castle in the clouds, a fleeting illusion.
With that thought, Link chuckled, "Percy, you must show respect to your seniors. Don't slap such a big label on someone over something so vague. In my view, Barty Crouch has actually been doing quite a good job."
At those words, Percy bowed even lower, full of fear as he began admitting fault.
But Link waved his hand and continued, "How about this, during this battle, we captured Barty Crouch Jr. As payment for old Barty's long years of hard work, I won't pursue his son's crimes."
"Percy, take Barty Jr. back to him. Watch carefully for us, how the father and son behave when reunited, and how old Barty deals with his only son. I'm very curious."
"Yes, Mr. Flamel!"
Percy raised his voice, his tone bursting with barely contained joy.
While speaking, he crawled out of the hall on his knees, only standing when he was completely out of Link's sight. Then he happily went to find Old Kreacher.
Although Link had only given him verbal praise with no real reward, Percy was already satisfied.
Because Link's final words had effectively entrusted him with the task of disciplining old Barty Crouch.
He too was eager to see the scene of father and son meeting.
But unlike Link's simple curiosity, his eagerness came from anticipation.
Because once this happened, old Barty's prestige in the Ministry would plummet.
And correspondingly, Percy Weasley would truly step into the great stage of the Ministry.
Percy could already imagine the fear and respect in others' eyes after this.
'Ha! This was the power of authority!'
Percy left happily, but Link remained in the hall.
He rubbed his brows with his fingers, eyes closed, as though deep in thought.
But really, he was simply sleepy.
The chair stacked with down pillows was just too comfortable, as if sitting on a cloud.
Only then did Emily, who had been hiding in the shadows, walk out holding a cup filled with a dark purple potion.
She carefully set the cup and tray on the tea table, adjusted the pillows behind Link again, and complained, "You shouldn't talk to that Percy Weasley for so long."
Link shifted into an even more comfortable position and said contemplatively, "They're all hardworking employees. I can't just brush them off."
"You still need to think about your own health!" Emily frowned and held the cup to him. "Come on, drink this."
A bitter smile rose on Link's face.
But in the end, he still forced down the disgusting potion.
Seeing this, Emily looked satisfied.
She added another blanket on him, then tossed a few more logs into the fireplace.
Only after doing all this did she say, "Sleep here for a while. I'll wake you when it's time for lunch."
Link nodded. After Emily left, he sighed and carefully lifted the edge of his robe.
There, wrapped tightly around his chest, was a thick layer of bandages.
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