As Fudge had said, he and Wayne were old acquaintances who'd dealt with each other many times.
Even from Wayne's perspective, they could barely be considered friends.
Though Wayne might look down on Fudge's intellect and vision, the man had indeed been helpful on numerous occasions.
Wayne readily accepted his invitation. The two boarded a prearranged car and arrived at Richmond, on the outskirts of the city.
They alighted before a detached villa, whereupon the driver immediately departed.
"64 Fafner Road," Fudge recited the address, and the scenery before Wayne transformed.
The narrow entrance abruptly widened as the villa rapidly receded, nearly doubling in size while neighbouring houses seemed to compress together.
Within seconds, the changes ceased—what had been an already luxurious detached villa now stood as a magnificent manor.
Fudge extended his hand in invitation: "Very few guests visit my home, Mr Lawrence. You're this year's first honoured visitor.
"After all, as Minister for Magic, having my address widely known would constitute a security risk itself."
Unconcerned about potential ambushes, Wayne entered first while remarking casually:
"That's truly my honour. But aren't you worried that knowing your address, I might come knocking should conflict arise between us?"
Fudge quickened his pace to lead the way. The expansive estate boasted several acres of gardens in the front courtyard, complete with a stream and extensive tennis courts.
"In this regard, you resemble Dumbledore yet differ completely."
"Dumbledore appears rule-abiding, yet in truth, he's the least trusting of the Ministry."
"But you, Mr Lawrence, are different. You've never cared for rules, yet you're the very one establishing and upholding them."
Wayne regarded him with surprise.
Those two statements alone warranted raising his estimation of Fudge several notches.
The observation was remarkably accurate.
Whether through the Order of the Phoenix or planting informants within the Ministry, Dumbledore's attitude towards the institution was clear—disdainful, indifferent, yet paradoxically rigid about following procedures like everyone else.
Wayne differed entirely. His gathering of influence and expansion of power all served to control this authority for his own purposes.
Noticing Wayne's gaze, Fudge's expression darkened momentarily before recovering.
Rather than hastening indoors for serious discussion, he invited Wayne to admire his collection of ornamental plants—all showy yet functionally worthless varieties.
Had Professor Sprout been present, she'd have lamented such fertile soil wasted on frivolous specimens.
Fudge displayed remarkable patience, which Wayne matched effortlessly, enthusiastically debating which flowers were most beautiful and even requesting seeds to plant in his pocket dimension.
Only at nightfall did they finally move indoors.
"Hoppe!" Fudge called, summoning a House-elf before him.
"You may serve dinner now."
"Yes, Master."
Fudge led Wayne to a modest dining room where food materialised on the table as they took their seats.
Across all nations, the dining table remains the customary venue for negotiations.
Yet Fudge avoided overly sensitive topics, instead sharing amusing anecdotes from his pre-ministerial days in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
When it came to livening up the atmosphere, Fudge was anything but poor. Even Wayne found himself drawn into the stories he told.
"Truth be told, I rather miss those days," Fudge sighed, shaking his head before downing his whisky in one gulp.
"Back then, no one paid attention to my department. Because of You-Know-Who, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes became the clean-up crew. Whenever an attack happened there, all we could do upon arrival was mop up the mess.
"It was also around that time I started dealing with Dumbledore frequently. Never expected he'd cast his vote for me, allowing me to leap two major ranks straight to becoming Minister for Magic."
"That proves you were diligent back then," Wayne offered a fair assessment. "Handled everything quite well—at least prevented too many Muggles from discovering Voldemort's existence."
Fudge's body gave an involuntary shudder.
"Merlin's beard, please don't say that name in front of me."
After the complaint, he smirked disdainfully.
"Diligent? Of course. Back then, I was just a junior clerk leading fewer than thirty subordinates. But he was Dumbledore—the only one in the wizarding world who could stand against You-Know-Who."
"In those days, Dumbledore's words carried more weight than Millicent's—the former Minister. Everyone was waiting for him to emerge from the castle and turn the tide."
"If you were me, would you dare not follow his 'suggestions'?"
Fudge emphasised the word 'suggestions'—one might even say through gritted teeth.
"Back then, it was understandable—I was an insignificant figure. But now?"
"I'm the Minister for Magic! Why must I still heed his advice for everything!"
"If he points and gestures, must I always comply?"
"If he's so opinionated, why doesn't he run for office himself? Must be quite satisfying pushing me to the forefront while pulling strings from behind!"
Fudge completely unleashed his grievances against Dumbledore. Wayne listened quietly without offering his own stance.
He disagreed with Fudge, but that didn't mean he didn't understand.
Just like emperors of old—even if incompetent, none would tolerate subordinates dictating terms.
It was human nature.
Fudge's mistake lay in becoming Minister during these unfortunate times.
Had it been a few years before Harry's enrolment, his reputation might have been excellent.
Back when the wizarding world was peaceful, even a pig in office could've secured over sixty per cent approval ratings.
After this lengthy venting, Fudge finally calmed down, his hair dishevelled from the earlier agitation as he panted heavily:
"Mr Lawrence... has You-Know-Who truly returned?"
After all this circling, they'd finally reached the main topic.
Before coming, Wayne had guessed his purpose—nothing more than recruitment, to prevent him from siding with Dumbledore.
Straightening his suit, Wayne leaned back into a comfortable position, regarding Fudge with composed ease:
"Minister, if you wouldn't believe Dumbledore, why would you believe me?"
"Or perhaps you wish to employ alternative methods to extract more reliable information from me? Veritaserum? Legilimency Spell?"
The air seemed to freeze at that moment, a bead of sweat forming on Fudge's brow: "M-Mr Lawrence, don't misunderstand. I merely wished to confirm again. I consider you far more reliable than Dumbledore."
Wayne slightly reined in his oppressive aura. "Reason."
"No one knows what Dumbledore is thinking, but you resemble a true noble more. You're more generous and affluent than the pure-bloods."
"As I said before, you operate within the rules."
"I acknowledge your assessment of me." Wayne gave a slight nod. "I do prefer working within established rules. Acting recklessly and breaking them would be grossly unfair to future rule-makers, greatly undermining credibility."
"Insightful as ever, Mr Lawrence." Fudge nodded in fervent agreement.
"Then abandon unrealistic fantasies." Wayne toyed with his fingers. "Voldemort has indeed returned—two of them, in fact. One old, one young.
"The old one's mindless, the young one powerless... though both are rather troublesome."
Fudge turned deathly pale. "H-how can there be two... He died over a decade ago..."
"Cornelius." Wayne's tone suddenly softened. "If the Killing Curse failed to finish him thirteen years ago, then even the most impossible things can become reality."
"It's not too late to turn back now."
Fudge's face remained ashen. "There's no going back..."
"The Ministry has always preached peace and security. If I announce the Dark Lord's return now..." He gave a bitter smile. "Believe me, I'd be ousted immediately to quell public outrage. Even if I'm completely blameless, the outcome wouldn't change.
"With your family background, you should understand this logic."
Wayne nodded. "True enough. But you can't deny reality either. If playing dumb could prevent the Dark Lord's return, you might as well feign idiocy forever."
Fudge lowered his head in silent contemplation.
Wayne didn't press him, waiting for his decision.
This differed from the original situation. Not only had Fudge witnessed partial truths, but both Wayne and Dumbledore stood as witnesses. If he still chose wilful ignorance...
Then Wayne would genuinely suspect he'd fallen under Voldemort's Imperius Curse.
The dining room's atmosphere grew oppressive as Fudge remained deep in thought.
Meanwhile, Wayne studied the room's furnishings.
Say what you will, but Fudge certainly hadn't lacked for income during his tenure as Minister. Many items were wizarding world luxuries—the dragon fangs in the cabinet measured a full metre long.
On a Minister's salary, it would take two or three years to afford just one of these pieces.
"Mr Lawrence... I want to propose a deal."
Just as Wayne finished mentally calculating Fudge's probable embezzlement, the man finally spoke.
"Hmm?" Wayne looked up from examining a Unicorn horn. "Before discussing deals... might I have this horn?"
Fudge choked slightly but nodded.
"A minor matter."
With a pleased wave, Wayne pocketed the item.
"So you believe Voldemort has returned?"
"My belief is irrelevant," Fudge said grimly. "Even if I don't believe, your alliance with Dumbledore would eventually unseat me. If I do believe, I'll be ousted immediately."
"Rather than that... I might as well maintain ignorance. But before leaving office..." His expression turned vicious. "I'll deal Dumbledore a crushing blow!"
Wayne frowned at Fudge's gritted teeth and venomous expression. "You want me to oppose Dumbledore? Don't bother me with this rubbish."
He'd be mad to deal with Dumbledore.
"Of course not. I intend to challenge him as Minister for Magic!" Fudge puffed out his chest. "He looks down on the Ministry yet still tries to command it."
"Scorns power yet wants to wield it. Well then, I'll show him what real power looks like when properly seated in that position!"
Fudge waved his arms excitedly. Wayne smirked.
Such hatred for old Dumbledore.
"So what's your offer then?"
"Simple."
"Mr Lawrence, please don't interfere between him and me. Just arrange a dignified exit for me when the time comes."
"And the bargaining chip?" Wayne remained expressionless, his face an unruffled lake.
"The Headmaster is my beloved friend and sworn brother."
Fudge's round face twitched violently. "Lawrence, Dumbledore's over a century older than you."
With righteous indignation, Wayne retorted, "His brother's my elder brother. Doesn't that make him my brother, too?"
Fudge looked astonished. "Dumbledore has a brother?"
"That's irrelevant." Wayne waved his hand. "Tell me what you can offer me."
"I'll pave your way," Fudge said deliberately. "You prepare my retreat."
"Lawrence, I know most of the Ministry now consists of your people—Greengrass, Diggory, Vaughan, Wharton... all intricately connected to you.
"I can place them in desirable positions. Even help you plant people in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, or the Auror Office."
"Thus, even after I step down, the next Minister will likely be your man.
"Don't purge me. Let me retire in peace."
Fudge's eyes brimmed with supplication.
Minor transgressions were only human.
Accepting gifts from pure-blood families, taking gold for favours—these weren't serious matters.
What was serious?
Getting caught—that was serious.
His accounts were a mess. If the next Minister opposed him, setting aside the whole Voldemort business, there was enough to send him to Azkaban for years.
"That simple?" Wayne seemed surprised.
Fudge's terms were suspiciously generous. A Minister arranging succession carried far more legitimacy than backroom deals.
"I also need a dignified exit."
Fudge's face twisted bitterly. "I don't want to become the cautionary tale for future Ministers decades from now."
Wayne smiled. "Minister, I admit I underestimated you. You're not the worst politician. You're slightly better than them."
"No, significantly better."