"Here we go again..." Dumbledore muttered under his breath, opting not to respond directly to Rita's provocations, instead turning his attention to Fudge.
"As the reporter continues to press, Headmaster Dumbledore remains evasive. This inevitably raises questions about whether there's more to the Philosopher's Stone theft case..." Rita's voice trailed off as she adjusted her manuscript.
Dumbledore fought to quell his rising anger at Rita's insinuations, focusing instead on her scribbling.
Meanwhile, Fudge shook off his daze and assessed the situation. He glared at Rita's unpleasant demeanor and issued a directive:
"Ms. Rita, Dumbledore and I have matters to discuss. You're dismissed! And I won't tolerate any unfavorable reports about the Ministry in tomorrow's Daily Prophet. No mention of Voldemort either! If necessary, I'll speak directly to your editor-in-chief!"
Rita hesitated, then relented. She knew her last article had embarrassed Fudge, leading him to confront the Daily Prophet's editor-in-chief. Despite the reprimand, she understood the delicate balance between the paper and the Ministry.
But whether she would comply with Fudge's demands depended on future negotiations.
Picking up the portrait left by Artel, Rita inquired, "And what about the report on Gandalf? Mr. Saruman requested our cooperation."
"Simply publish a standard tracing report. The Ministry will offer a reward for any information on Gandalf's whereabouts. If someone provides his address, we'll nominate them for the Order of Merlin, 3rd Class," Fudge instructed sternly. "As for Saruman's remarks about Sauron, include them briefly, but emphasize it's his personal opinion. We lack evidence to support it."
Rita rolled her eyes and departed, leaving Fudge to exchange a wry smile with Dumbledore.
"Did Voldemort truly steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Fudge queried, seeking Dumbledore's insight.
"That's correct... It's true. You should be aware that Hogwarts has changed its Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The previous professor, Quirrell, was allied with Voldemort..."
Dumbledore didn't mince words. He knew there was no point in concealing it now that Saruman had brought the matter to light. It was time for the Ministry of Magic to prepare.
Fudge seemed to age ten years in an instant.
As terrifying as Sauron sounded coming from Saruman's lips, Fudge had never experienced such dread.
And while Voldemort may have been downplayed by Saruman, Fudge had firsthand experience of the terror inflicted by Voldemort's actions.
"What should we do then?" Fudge's voice quivered with panic.
"I believe we need to suppress news of Voldemort's return, lest the world descend into chaos..."
Fudge was fixated on suppressing the news. He had only recently ascended to the position of Minister of Magic from Barty Crouch's tenure. Barely a year into his term, and this happened.
Should he step down?
No! No!
"Easy there, my friend."
Dumbledore sensed Fudge's anxiety and sought to reassure him.
"In truth, it's not as dire as it seems. I've safeguarded the Philosopher's Stone in a unique manner. Voldemort's health isn't great. He's eager to get hold of the Stone, but he'll need more time."
Fudge breathed a sigh of relief at Dumbledore's words.
"We'll use this time to conduct a covert search. We must locate where Quirrell is hiding and retrieve the Philosopher's Stone... Does Nicolas Flamel have any means to locate its whereabouts?"
Dumbledore shook his head, looking troubled.
"Unfortunately, he did, but since I sealed the Philosopher's Stone, he's unable to track it."
The Order of the Phoenix had been tirelessly hunting for Quirrell, but he seemed to have vanished without a trace. Dumbledore suspected he may have fled England, perhaps to Romania, Italy, or elsewhere in Europe.
"We'll find him eventually. We will."
Fudge muttered, then pressed for more information:
"What about Saruman's claims? I'm sure you're privy to more information than I am, Dumbledore. Tell me, is the situation as dire as he suggests?"
Dumbledore fell silent for a moment before nodding solemnly.
"I believe so... My old friend, based on the intelligence I've gathered, there indeed exists a being named Sauron... I don't know his true identity, but he may well be Voldemort... or something even more malevolent."
"The Ring of Power, that's Sauron's creation. I can't say how powerful he is or how many dark wizards serve him, but undoubtedly, there are many under his command."
"Though these individuals have yet to reveal themselves, the creatures from The Hobbit, the troll, the Ent, the Balrog, even the spiders in Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest... haven't they all made appearances before? It suggests they may suddenly emerge at any moment..."
Knowing how challenging things were turning out to be, it almost seemed pointless for him to hold the Minister of Magic position.
"Then do we need to fill in the others? As Saruman wishes."
"You handled it quite well just now. For now, let's only reveal the news about Gandalf. As for Sauron's matters, there are still too many uncertainties. We'll treat it as speculation and let the wizarding world adjust to it until he really shows up or his minions do. Then, we'll address it."
Even though Dumbledore presented this plan to Fudge, he had already been considering selecting some suitable individuals to join the Order of the Phoenix.
Fudge pondered over it and concluded it was the most feasible approach.
The two discussed various matters extensively, and it wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Dumbledore departed from the Ministry of Magic.
...
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Artel had reached northern Norway, an island in the Arctic Ocean.
Artel hadn't anticipated Quirrell's swift movements. When he checked Quirrell's whereabouts using the Isil spar, Artel was taken aback.
The man had actually ended up in the Arctic Ocean, blending in with the local fishermen.
Observing the modest village ahead, Artel approached one of the houses and gently knocked on the door.
After a considerable pause, a voice emerged from inside, and the door creaked open, revealing Quirrell's face.
"Who... Mr. Saruman?"
Initially drowsy, Quirrell's eyes widened as he nervously and excitedly gazed at Artel.
"Why are you here?"
Quirrell inquired in surprise, then swiftly clarified:
"I'm not questioning your presence... As a wise man, a seer, you must be aware of my hiding place. I mean, what brings you here?"
Stepping aside, Quirrell gestured for Artel to enter the house.
Artel surveyed the ordinary village abode, noticing various Muggle provisions and fishing gear scattered around. To avoid arousing suspicion, Quirrell hadn't harmed the original Muggle resident but merely controlled him with the Imperius Curse, confining him to another room.
In the center of the room stood a large mirror—the Mirror of Erised.
Turning to face Quirrell, who appeared anxious, Artel inquired:
"Quirrell, do you desire the Philosopher's Stone? I can assist you."
Quirrell trembled in surprise at the offer, his eyes gleaming with intense longing. He looked at Artel and exclaimed:
"Mr. Saruman! Will you truly help me?"
Quirrell's joy was palpable.
With Saruman's aid, he wouldn't need to endure the harsh conditions of his current hideout. Every day was fraught with fear—not only studying the peculiar mirror but also dreading detection by Dumbledore's allies.
Mr. Saruman, what a benevolent figure!
"So... what must I do in return?"
Knowing that nothing comes without a price, Quirrell understood there was a catch to Saruman's assistance.
"Allow Voldemort to communicate with me," Artel replied casually. Quirrell nodded, carefully removing his turban. After a brief exchange with Voldemort, he turned back to face Artel.
"Saruman..."
Voldemort appeared even more feeble, partly due to his lack of unicorn blood and partly due to Nagini's influence.
Glaring at Artel with a mix of anger and faint fear, Voldemort hoarsely asked:
"What is it that you wish to discuss with me?"
A smile curled on Artel's lips as he looked at Voldemort with commanding eyes and uttered softly:
"I can procure the Philosopher's Stone for you and mend your wounds... but, Voldemort, Tom Riddle, I require something from you in return."
.....
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