Laying out the facts, reasoning things through, offering a sweet incentive, and topping it off with a slap that hung in the air without falling—this finally made Fudge lower his head.
In the end, this world still runs on strength: whoever has the bigger fist holds the truth. Dumbledore has the biggest fist, so he is truth itself. Fortunately, Dumbledore is someone who reasons, otherwise the wizarding world would have gained another Dark Lord.
After discussing some details with Fudge, Dumbledore chatted idly for a while, like old friends who hadn't seen each other in a long time. It was as if the one who had been banging the table, shouting, and turning red in the face just moments ago wasn't Fudge at all, but some unknown passerby.
The rift between the Minister and the Headmaster needed to be mended. But a rift, once formed, remained—no matter how quickly it was patched, it would still leave crooked, unsightly traces.
One day, for one reason or another, this crack would widen again. And when that time came, it would no longer be repairable—only one of the Minister or the Headmaster could remain.
By the time they left the Ministry, it was already late at night. Even the brightly lit London was gradually falling asleep, the orange streetlights stretching Dumbledore and Eda's shadows into long, slanted shapes.
Dumbledore remained silent and somber, while Eda showed the lively spirit of a girl her age, balancing along the narrow curb like it was a game. Her liveliness seemed to disturb Dumbledore's quiet.
The headmaster asked, "When did you develop hyperactivity?"
"Hyperactivity? Of course not." Eda shook her head in denial, still walking along the curb without stepping down. "I just think that although tonight's events were unpleasant, they've been resolved in the end—it's something worth being happy about."
Eda jumped down from the curb and continued, "Just because you, you grumpy old man, aren't happy, does that mean I can't be happy either? Since when did you become so overbearing?"
"So sharp-tongued—I can't argue with you," Dumbledore said helplessly. Unlike before, there was now a trace of a smile in his eyes.
"Don't say that. Everything I said today was only because you let me," Eda said, fully aware of herself. Bringing her along to meet Fudge had been Dumbledore's way of training her.
There were many ways for Dumbledore to handle Fudge—tempting him with benefits was just one of them. And Dumbledore had passed this method on to Eda, both to train her and to help her become a familiar face within the Ministry of Magic.
If it hadn't been for bringing Eda along, Dumbledore could actually have chosen other methods.
"You don't need to belittle yourself. Your performance today was very good. You knew what to do at the right time, what mattered more, and you weren't influenced by others—all of that was excellent," Dumbledore praised. "Especially your way with words. What wasn't particularly persuasive in itself became quite bewitching when spoken by you."
Dumbledore tilted his head, thought for a moment, and then said, "Could it be that during your time at Nurmengard, he taught you a thing or two?"
"Him?" Eda looked full of disdain. "That stubborn, obstinate old man—I take good care of him every day, and he still keeps picking fights with me. Just because I said the war he started was doomed to fail, he got all petty about it."
"There aren't many people who can make him angry, or get him to pick a fight," Dumbledore said.
Eda suddenly stopped and jumped right in front of Dumbledore. "So that's an honor for me, then?"
"Not quite," Dumbledore said, casually pushing Eda aside. "By the way, did you win the arguments?" The question was rather gossipy—probably only because the other person was Grindelwald.
Eda followed behind Dumbledore with a sulky expression, and as revenge, she stomped hard on his shadow. "No. I only won once or twice. With how good he is at arguing, it's a waste he doesn't go out and curse people in the streets!"
"You haven't seen what he was like when he was young. Back then, he could start a rebellion with nothing but his words," Dumbledore said. "That was his unparalleled charisma—the kind that made people willingly follow him through fire and water."
"I've already seen it," Eda said. She thought of her grandmother—wasn't Vinda also captivated by that very charm? Then Eda asked, "Can I go visit him this summer?"
Dumbledore slightly turned his head to look at Eda, who was walking with her head lowered. There was a smile on his face, though it didn't show in his tone as he spoke. "Of course. Don't you already know how to get in and out? Go whenever you like."
The two fell into silence, each thinking about the old man in Nurmengard. The difference was that one felt remembrance and longing, while the other was secretly vowing to win their next argument.
Even if she couldn't win, at the very least, she wouldn't lose in spirit.
As they walked, Dumbledore suddenly stopped and raised his right arm. Seeing the headmaster's movement, Eda stepped forward and took his arm. The two of them instantly disappeared from the streets of London, as if they had never been there at all.
The two who vanished from London did not reappear in Hogsmeade, but instead arrived in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole—at the Burrow. When Eda looked at Dumbledore in confusion, the headmaster explained that it was too late, and he didn't want her to disturb her dormmates' rest.
So as not to disturb Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, they came to the Burrow… to disturb the equally sleeping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?
Dumbledore suddenly said, with deeper meaning, "Eda, when darkness falls, never forget the guidance of the light in your heart. It will illuminate your path forward, and it will also light your way home."
As if to match his words, the Burrow lit up the moment he finished speaking. The sudden light wasn't blinding at all—instead, it was soft, gently illuminating the ground beneath their feet.
Wearing pajamas and a cloak, Mr. Weasley rushed out of the house. Upon seeing Dumbledore and Eda in the yard, he put away his wand.
Though he lowered his wand, Mr. Weasley's expression grew even more tense. He asked, "Professor, have Eda and Fred and George caused trouble at school?"
"No, Arthur. On the contrary, they've done very well—far beyond expectations," Dumbledore said. "May we trouble you for a bit? We're quite hungry."
"Of course, of course." Mr. Weasley ushered Dumbledore into the Burrow. Behind Dumbledore's back, he winked at Eda, silently asking what was going on.
Eda's mischievous side immediately surfaced. With an exaggeratedly secretive expression, she mouthed, "A surprise! A huge surprise!"
Even though Mr. Weasley didn't know Eda's true nature—that she could act one way to someone's face and another behind their back—he had raised "an entire Quidditch team" of children. Anyone who believed Eda's "surprise" would have to be out of their mind.
In the Burrow's kitchen, Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Eda sat around the table. In front of Dumbledore and Eda were bread, fried eggs, and hot milk.
After taking a couple of simple bites of bread, Dumbledore began to explain the reason for his late-night visit. He told the Weasley couple about Sirius and Peter.
When they heard that it was Peter Pettigrew who had betrayed the Potters, and that Sirius had been wrongfully imprisoned for twelve years because of it, Mrs. Weasley was so upset that she burst into tears.
Mrs. Weasley was an exceptionally kind person—otherwise, she wouldn't have treated Harry so well, nor regarded Eda as one of her own.
And when she heard that Peter had transformed into a rat and hidden for twelve whole years, she gritted her teeth in hatred. Then she realized that for all those twelve years, Peter had been living in her home under the name Scabbers…
Poor Arthur Weasley—his expression at this moment was one of great pain. His wife, Molly Weasley, was gripping his arm tighter and tighter.
"Fortunately, Eda and Fred and George helped Sirius," Dumbledore reassured them. "They helped him capture the hidden Peter. Sirius will regain his freedom, and Peter will receive the judgment he deserves."
Only then did Mrs. Weasley finally release poor Mr. Weasley, and he didn't dare make a sound—not even to rub his arm.
Was this fear of his wife? No—this was Arthur Weasley's deep love. Yes, exactly that…
In the early hours of the morning, Eda changed into her pajamas (she still had many clothes here) and lay down on the familiar bed. Despite being exhausted from the night's events, she did not fall asleep quickly.
Eda kept turning over Dumbledore's words in her mind.
Yes—the darkness was drawing near.
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