The origins of laws at the Ministry of Magic were always rather peculiar.
Some were drafted by the departments themselves—like Mr Weasley's Muggle Protection Act, which fell under the jurisdiction of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, making his regulations the law.
Others were forcibly pushed through by the Minister's sheer will.
Take Hortensia Milliflute, for instance. This Minister from 150 years ago held office for nine years and revelled in enacting laws—over a thousand statutes and regulations bore her name.
From the beef content in sandwiches to the volume at which wizards recited spells, even the angle at which they wore their hats—everything was regulated.
The overwhelming complexity of these rules led to widespread discontent, eventually costing her the position, and those laws were subsequently repealed.
Yet, no matter how oddly a law originated, it had to be submitted to the Wizengamot for a vote to be implemented. Only with majority support would it officially become legislation.
Wayne produced a stack of parchment and casually tossed it into the air. The sheets landed precisely before each person present—even Dumbledore and Harry received copies. Everyone, that is, except Umbridge.
"Anti-Corruption Department Establishment Bill."
The young man tapped the table lightly as he spoke in a calm voice. "I've noticed that the Ministry's management needs standardisation. Much of its enforcement relies entirely on the individual integrity of its staff."
As he said this, his gaze flickered briefly towards Umbridge.
"Take this toad-like woman, for example. Making such a grand fuss over a minor case of underage magic outside school—isn't that a blatant waste of Ministry resources?"
"You—!" Umbridge glared at Wayne, looking as though she wanted to skin him alive.
"Silence, please. Thank you. This is an internal Wizengamot meeting. Allowing you to observe is already a privilege."
Wayne didn't even glance at her before continuing his argument:
"Then there's the issue of corruption. Every year, the Ministry claims financial strain, yet external donations and Gringotts' tribute payments continue to increase. Where does all the money go?"
Here, an explanation of the Ministry's revenue sources is necessary.
The wizarding world resembles a utopian society—even the Ministry has no authority to levy taxes.
Donations from the public, fines from legal violations, and administrative fees within departmental jurisdictions—these constitute the Ministry's income.
The most significant among these is Gringotts 'tribute.'
Why, despite multiple goblin rebellions, do goblins still manage Gringotts, the financial lifeline?
The answer lies in this very tribute.
Of course, it also stems from wizards' general ineptitude in business.
As long as they wield sufficient power, another goblin rebellion isn't particularly concerning.
In fact, when the Ministry faces financial shortages, it might even covertly incite one, securing hefty compensations while increasing future tribute payments.
The room fell into silence once more as everyone studied Wayne's proposed bill.
The more they read, the more alarmed they grew.
It not only imposed strict regulations on enforcement procedures across all departments but also outlined clear penalties for violations—ranging from months of salary deductions to direct imprisonment in Azkaban.
If this Anti-Corruption Department were truly established and implemented as written, wouldn't the Ministry be thrown into utter chaos?
Many wizards working at the Ministry of Magic were either relatives or close friends. Offending them all at once...
Even for those of higher seniority and status, it was rather overwhelming.
Fudge found himself in an especially sticky situation. The legal provisions were far too numerous. After skimming just a few that applied to himself, he realised they'd land him in Azkaban for life. Summoning his courage, he raised his hand:
"M-Mister Lawrence, isn't this excessively harsh?
"Ministry employees already work very hard. Too many regulations and overly severe punishments would affect their efficiency, even make them overly cautious."
Several nodded in agreement. They didn't want to stick their necks out, but since Fudge had taken the lead, following suit seemed safe enough.
Wayne pressed a single hand downward, silencing the murmurs. "I understand your concerns. Justice shouldn't ignore human sentiment. Overly harsh laws would dampen everyone's enthusiasm."
"Exactly, exactly! That's precisely what we mean."
"It is rather severe, though Mister Lawrence's intentions are good."
"The corruption problem at the Ministry is quite serious. I actually think maintaining strictness there makes sense."
The crowd buzzed with carefully measured opinions. Wayne had anticipated this reaction—the draft he'd presented was merely bait.
"Since everyone feels this way, let's go through it point by point."
Wayne rapped his gavel, restoring order. "Aside from the excessive severity of punishments, I trust you all agree with the other regulations and the necessity of an Anti-Corruption Department?"
Nobody dared oppose this—doing so would imply they had something to hide.
"Excellent. That simplifies matters." Wayne leaned back. "You can discuss the punishment provisions yourselves. I'm no legal expert, after all."
"Madam Bones, Mister Crouch—you both have extensive experience. I'll leave the detailed provisions in your hands."
Bones nodded. "I'll strive for fairness and moderation."
Crouch countered, "I disagree. I believe severity has merit—it prevents deliberate lawbreaking."
The Wizengamot members grew tense again.
Crouch was the ruthless sort who'd even sent his own son to Azkaban...
But Wayne had no patience for further debate and adjourned the meeting.
Bones approached Wayne for additional details and his thoughts, departing only after extensive discussion.
Wayne admired this stern witch's integrity and precision.
Pity...
They weren't cut from the same cloth.
He needed subordinates who'd stand unconditionally with him, not colleagues obsessed with so-called fairness.
The courtroom gradually emptied until only Fudge, Umbridge, and Percy remained.
"Minister..." Percy fawned as he approached.
Fudge waved him off impatiently. "Pacey, leave us. Umbridge and I have matters to discuss."
Percy flushed crimson but dared not correct the misused name. With a stiff bow, he fled in humiliation.
Ever since Crouch had misnamed him, the entire Ministry seemed afflicted by an inability to remember his name.
In just one month working under Fudge, Percy had acquired over a dozen new names.
"Minister, why didn't you support me earlier?"
After Percy left, Umbridge spoke immediately, her tone sharpened by barely concealed resentment.
Fudge paid no mind, instead letting out a long sigh.
"Dolores, didn't you see it just now?"
"See what?" Umbridge was confused.
"Didn't you see Lawrence's commanding presence?" Fudge said through gritted teeth. "The moment he arrived, the Wizengamot was practically kneeling to welcome him."
"You've no idea how terrifying his influence has become."
"I've already crossed Dumbledore. I can't afford to antagonise Lawrence, too. If both come after me, I won't last long as Minister."
Fudge wore a look of bitter frustration. "Dolores, I... my heart is heavy!"
Seeing Fudge's genuine distress, Umbridge softened, her tone becoming sympathetic. "My apologies, Minister. I failed to appreciate your difficulties."
"It's fine." Fudge forced a strained smile. "Right now, I'm counting on you, Dolores."
"Once you uncover evidence of Dumbledore's conspiracy to rebel at the school and gain control of Hogwarts, we can eliminate one enemy. Then we'll deal with Lawrence in due time."
Umbridge nodded eagerly. "Minister, I won't let you down."
After a hesitant pause, she lowered her voice and asked, "Have you never considered... using Aurors to force Dumbledore into submission?"
Fudge nearly rolled his eyes out of his head.
Have you lost your damned mind?
Since when could Ministry Aurors handle Dumbledore?
Yes, he'd once entertained such naive notions himself.
But what had dispelled them wasn't Dumbledore—it was Wayne.
During last year's World Cup, one man had nearly slaughtered a hundred wizards single-handedly. Just that flame-containment charm had required dozens of Aurors working in unison to dismantle.
If Wayne was that powerful, what did that make Dumbledore?
His only remaining leverage was that Dumbledore would play within the rules rather than overturn the board.
For Umbridge to suggest brute force was tantamount to forcing a mutually destructive conflict between the Ministry and Dumbledore.
The thought alone terrified him!
"Dolores, I advise you to abandon that notion immediately!" Fudge reprimanded sharply.
"We are officials, not lawless Dark Wizards."
"Once we've secured proof of Dumbledore's crimes, I'll prosecute him through legal channels. What you're suggesting is tantamount to trampling justice!"
Umbridge offered repeated apologies until Fudge's expression eased slightly. Smirking inwardly, he patted her shoulder encouragingly.
"In any case, work hard. You'll have every support—except direct intervention."
...
Elsewhere.
Wayne was entertaining the elderly crowd.
Some sought fame, others profit, and a few even begged for their lives.
As a capitalist, he knew how to cultivate a loose yet highly useful coalition of interests.
Over several years, through lobbying strategies devised by his consultancy, he'd identified—and exploited—every Wizengamot member's vulnerabilities.
Now that he'd secured the Chief Warlock position, it was time to distribute favours for mutual benefit.
Still, a select few received special attention.
Though not Death Eaters, they'd maintained questionable ties during Voldemort's rise to power.
However, through the use of the Legilimency Spell, he discovered that these people had not yet established contact with Voldemort, which temporarily put his mind at ease.
After a lengthy round of bickering that delayed them for nearly an hour, Wayne finally approached Harry and Dumbledore, who had been waiting for him.
"Sorry for keeping you waiting, Professor."
"Not at all," Dumbledore smiled. "At this hour, we're still ahead of the scheduled inquiry time."
Harry nodded vigorously. "Wayne, thanks for speaking up for me today."
"I didn't really help," Wayne waved his hand dismissively. "By the time I arrived, you'd already proven your innocence. You should be thanking the Headmaster instead."
"I already have," Harry said, then added in a lower voice to Wayne, "I meant thanks for how you handled Umbridge earlier. She's absolutely vile.
"I never want to see her again in my life."
Wayne gave a dry chuckle. "Well, I hope that wish comes true."
After chatting for a while longer, Wayne shooed the bothersome Harry away.
Before leaving, Harry invited him to visit Grimmauld Place, scheduling it for the following evening.
Harry had also invited Dumbledore, but the latter declined, citing a busy schedule.
Harry was disappointed but didn't press the matter.
Only after he'd left did Wayne extend another invitation. "Professor, care to drop by my place?"
"Indeed. I happen to have some questions for you as well."
The two left the Ministry of Magic and Apparated to Wayne's home.
The sandwich he'd eaten earlier at the Ministry had been utterly terrible—he'd taken two bites before tossing it aside. Wayne had Gardevoir prepare some proper snacks so they could talk over food.
"Professor, what did you want to ask me?" Wayne said around a mouthful of hash brown.
"Snape has seen Voldemort," Dumbledore replied, taking a sip of coffee before adding ten sugar cubes—a sight that made Wayne's eyelid twitch. After a satisfied sip, the old wizard continued, "Voldemort was in a terrible state that day, suffering from magical backlash. I heard you were the one who injured him."
"I'd like to know where you encountered him and what Voldemort was doing at the time."
Wayne looked surprised. "Injured? No way."
"I just sent a rocket his way. Has he gotten that weak?"