With Scrimgeour now on-site, every Auror present obeyed his orders, taking their positions.
"Rufus, did you manage to capture that wretched Death Eater?" Fudge asked urgently.
"No. He's fast, and he can fly. We simply couldn't keep up," Scrimgeour replied, shaking his head in frustration.
"That bad?" Fudge muttered, pacing anxiously.
His gaze drifted back to Umbridge, still slumped unconscious against the wall, and a surge of anger flashed across his face.
But Scrimgeour quickly drew him aside, discreetly recounting how William had driven off the Death Eater. By the time he finished, Fudge was stunned.
"Well, what do we do?" Fudge looked conflicted.
Attacking an Auror would normally mean a trip to Azkaban, but this was no ordinary case. William was the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin and had just fended off a Death Eater.
Arresting him would bring a storm of public backlash, especially since William was one of Dumbledore's favored students.
But just as Fudge was mulling it over, Scrimgeour informed him that reporters were swarming outside Gringotts.
"Those blasted leeches! They should all be locked in Azkaban!" Fudge grumbled.
He could hardly think about Umbridge now; his mind raced with ways to handle the press and the media storm that would soon break.
Today had been the Order of Merlin award ceremony, but by evening, the youngest award recipient had been attacked, Gringotts nearly robbed, and the Dark Mark was left in the air—it was a scandal of epic proportions, one the media would love to milk for months.
It had only been a little over a year since he took office, and Fudge already felt overwhelmed by crises.
He sighed heavily, pacing around the cavern, weighing his options. His first impulse was to cover up the incident, but that was simply impossible.
Without the Dark Mark, they could've spun this as a failed break-in, with no harm done.
But with the mark in the air and a Death Eater captured just months prior, it would raise doubts about the Ministry's competence.
"Minister, I need to take the boy now; he must rest," Nicolas Flamel approached, interrupting Fudge's thoughts.
Fudge squinted, trying to place the stylishly dressed man in front of him.
"Mr. Nicolas Flamel… Why, I didn't expect to see you here! I thought you were in Devonshire?"
"I just happened to be nearby," Flamel replied with a smile. "But yes, I'm taking the boy now."
"What, you and William know each other?" Fudge asked, stunned.
"We've been corresponding all summer." Flamel's smile grew.
"Oh, well… then, yes, of course. Go on, please," Fudge stammered, looking taken aback.
But before Flamel could guide him away, William, fighting his exhaustion, looked up and spoke firmly. "I'm not leaving yet. I want an explanation."
"What explanation?" Fudge scowled. "You attacked a Ministry official, and I'm already overlooking it."
"It's not about Umbridge—it's about Gringotts," William said icily. "My family came here to deposit our savings, only to be attacked. And the whole time I was fighting, where were Gringotts' guards?"
Fudge turned to the elder goblin nearby, glaring. "Yes, where were Gringotts' guards? The Ministry wasn't even alerted of the intruder. It's entirely your fault that he got away!"
Fudge had found his scapegoat, and he latched onto it eagerly.
The elderly goblin averted his eyes, mumbling evasively, unable to meet their gaze.
William sneered, seeing through the goblin's evasion. They had likely decided to withhold support after assessing the dark-robed wizard's strength, hoping to let William wear him down.
And if the Ministry had shown up, it would've given them an excuse to investigate Gringotts, something the goblins avoided at all costs. They'd hoped to downplay everything and retain their "unbreakable" reputation—until the Dark Mark put a swift end to that plan.
"We're prepared to compensate you," the goblin said, bowing slightly.
William allowed himself a small smile. That was exactly what he wanted.
He pointed to the lifeless dragon on the cavern floor.
"I want that."
Fudge's eyes widened in surprise. He'd expected William to ask for perhaps a few thousand Galleons, but this was far bolder.
"Absolutely not!" The goblin's voice trembled with fury. "That dragon is Gringotts' property. We cannot simply give it away, even if it's dead."
A dragon's carcass was immensely valuable, worth a small fortune—and was highly coveted by everyone in the magic world, considering how difficult it was to obtain one.
Although Gringotts had its own dragon farm in Africa, even they couldn't easily part with an intact dragon as compensation.
"If you refuse, I'll be happy to tell the Daily Prophet all about this," William said, adopting a tone like that of Snape. "I imagine the journalists would be keen to hear how Gringotts endangers its clients and lets Death Eaters come and go as they please."
"You…!" the goblin stammered, shaking with rage as he pointed at William.
William continued, his tone cold and calm. "Of course, I won't keep the dragon for myself.
"I'll donate one-sixth to the Ministry of Magic, one-sixth to Hogwarts, one-sixth to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, one-sixth to St. Mungo's, and the remaining third to Ravenclaw House."
Fudge's breath quickened.
William wasn't keeping any of it? Such generosity! A dragon's body could fetch several hundred thousand Galleons. Even a sixth of that was a handsome sum, and he could no doubt secure a fair portion of it for himself.
What Fudge didn't realize, however, was that by allocating shares to Hogwarts and Ravenclaw House, William could still access dragon blood or dragon sinew for his research whenever he pleased.
This was William's way of being clever. Asking for the whole dragon would never fly, but sharing it around? That he could do.
After a brief pause, Fudge spoke up. "It's settled then! Let's get this dragon over to the Ministry."
Dozens of Aurors stepped in, leaving the goblin fuming, powerless to intervene.
Once the matter was settled, Fudge sighed. "Let's go; now we just have to deal with the blasted reporters."
As the others left, William finally exhaled, his tension easing slightly.
"Mr. Flamel, please help alter my parents' memories," he murmured, his voice heavy with fatigue.
"Of course, I'll handle it," Flamel reassured him.
With that, William's eyes drifted shut as he clutched Fawkes close, surrendering to his exhaustion at last.
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