Hogwarts' White Lord

"Can't find a way to remove the curse?"

Fudge found it almost impossible to believe.

He was well aware of St. Mungo's Hospital's expertise in handling magical ailments and damage. With the exception of the three Unforgivable Curses, there was little magic couldn't address.

"Yes, Minister," Scrimgeour confirmed grimly. "After those people transformed into skeletons, there were no detectable magical reactions on their bodies. It's... very peculiar."

In theory, even creatures like werewolves, when not transformed, could still be identified using specific magical tests to reveal their condition.

But these cursed individuals were different.

When they weren't exposed to moonlight, they appeared completely normal—indistinguishable from ordinary Muggles.

"If I had to point out a difference," Scrimgeour added after a pause, "it's that their senses seem slightly dulled compared to before."

"Dulled senses?" Fudge asked, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"For example, when eating, they've reported diminished taste—food no longer has the same flavor for them. That's the most noticeable change," Scrimgeour explained.

As an experienced Auror, Scrimgeour had encountered countless forms of dark magic and was familiar with magical systems from around the world.

To him, this curse bore an unsettling resemblance to the legends of ghost ships prevalent in European and American folklore.

"In my judgment," Scrimgeour continued, "these individuals are on their way to becoming true zombies—forever cut off from the joys and sensations of the living."

"Like ghosts?" Fudge asked, his unease growing.

"Almost," Scrimgeour replied with a solemn nod. "The key difference is that, unlike ghosts, they still have physical bodies."

Though their bodies lacked flesh and blood, reduced to rotting skeletons, they still fared slightly better than ghosts, who existed as nothing more than intangible specters.

"I understand," Fudge said, rubbing his temples in frustration. He issued an order: "Apprehend everyone connected to this incident."

"Also, locate the sarcophagus and the missing gold coins. I want them recovered immediately."

"Yes, Minister," Scrimgeour replied crisply before leaving to carry out the orders.

Once Scrimgeour had gone, Fudge's expression darkened completely.

He couldn't shake the feeling that this entire situation was part of a conspiracy, someone secretly plotting against him.

"Could it be Dumbledore?" he muttered to himself.

Although Fudge outwardly showed the utmost respect for the world's most powerful light wizard, deep down, he was acutely aware that he was merely a puppet, elevated to his position by Dumbledore's influence.

The old headmaster's sway over the wizarding world was immense.

All Dumbledore had to do was utter the words, "Fudge is good," and suddenly, Fudge found himself as Minister of Magic.

Were others truly less capable than him?

Take Scrimgeour, for instance—the man who had just left. His competence as head of the Auror Office far surpassed Fudge's own.

But none of that mattered.

Because Dumbledore had chosen Fudge, and thus, Fudge was the Minister of Magic.

"I won't remain in Dumbledore's shadow forever," Fudge muttered determinedly. "No, I won't."

Reassuring himself with this thought, he forced an amiable smile back onto his face. Then, using magic, he initiated contact with Dumbledore.

Yes, contacting Dumbledore was the logical next step.

Despite his wariness, Fudge was still relatively young in his role and needed to maintain respect for the old headmaster. Especially now, with the cursed gold coins proving impervious to the expertise of both St. Mungo's Hospital and the Ministry's best curse-breakers.

Though Hogwarts was primarily a school, many of its professors were masters of their respective magical disciplines.

"Cornelius?"

Moments later, a ripple of magic shimmered through the two-way mirror, and the familiar figure of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

The mirror reflected the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore wasn't alone.

Beside him stood a boy, no older than 11 or 12, who looked like a young wizard fresh into his first year.

That boy...

Fudge thought for a moment, then remembered. Ivan?

Ivan's name had gained some notoriety at Hogwarts. Thanks to the troll incident earlier in the year, even Fudge had heard of him.

Of course, Fudge hadn't paid much attention.

What kind of first-year wizard could supposedly defeat a troll and dark wizards within months of arriving at school?

To Fudge, it sounded more like a publicity stunt to bolster Ivan's reputation.

As far as Fudge was concerned, it was all exaggerated nonsense.

"Albus," Fudge greeted warmly, though irritation simmered beneath his polished smile. "I apologize for troubling you so late."

"You know, Albus," Fudge began, his voice carefully measured. "I… I've just taken office, and I'm still unfamiliar with many aspects of the Ministry of Magic."

As he spoke, however, Fudge couldn't help but notice that Ivan was still standing beside Dumbledore, showing no intention of leaving.

What's going on?

Surely, when the headmaster of Hogwarts speaks with the Minister of Magic, a first-year student ought to excuse himself? Even if Ivan didn't realize this, surely Dumbledore would.

Yet, Ivan remained where he was, and Dumbledore made no move to dismiss him.

"Hmm?" Dumbledore tilted his head slightly, noticing Fudge's sudden pause. "Cornelius, what brings you to me tonight?"

"This…"

Fudge hesitated, glancing repeatedly at Ivan, his eyes practically pleading with Dumbledore to send the boy away.

"Ah!"

Dumbledore finally seemed to catch on, slapping his forehead with a smile. "Look at me, how forgetful I've become. I nearly forgot about this young man."

Huh!

Fudge exhaled deeply, relieved. He was now half-inclined to believe the rumors about Dumbledore's forgetfulness—or worse, senility.

Fortunately, the headmaster finally appeared to address the situation.

"Let me introduce you," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. "This is Ivan Ambrosius, a new student who just enrolled at Hogwarts this year. He's the most gifted child I've ever had the pleasure of teaching."

Though Dumbledore had noticed Fudge's unease, the headmaster, unaware of the Minister's inner thoughts—and lacking the benefit of hindsight from any "original novel"—didn't see anything particularly unusual about the situation.

This was indeed true.

Fudge's greed for power wasn't inherently wrong.

The mistake lay in his suspicion that Dumbledore sought to seize power, especially during Voldemort's return. Fudge's fixation on this fear led him to ignore the very real dangers threatening the Ministry of Magic.

In Ivan's words, Fudge was like a king focused solely on maintaining the status quo.

For a time of peace and stability, leaders like Fudge—adept at appearances and maintaining order—could ensure a certain level of consistency in the wizarding world.

At the very least, Fudge didn't harbor the overconfidence to believe he could reshape the wizarding world with his own abilities.

The old headmaster's goal in introducing Ivan to Fudge was clear.

With Ivan's extraordinary talent, his path forward was destined to be smooth.

After graduating from Hogwarts, with Dumbledore's support and the connections Ivan would build during his time at school—combined with his own innate abilities—he was certain to rise quickly in prominence.

He could start by securing a position within the British Ministry of Magic, eventually becoming Minister of Magic himself.

From there, he could expand his influence, joining forces with the French Ministry of Magic and the German Ministry of Magic to create a unified Western European alliance.

The next step would be to ascend to the position of Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards and take that funny title of The Supreme Mugwump.

Perhaps Ivan might face setbacks in early elections due to his youth.

But time was on his side.

Ivan was still young.

He could afford to wait—perhaps until his early 30s—before stepping confidently onto the international stage.

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