Scrimgeour struggled to his feet, panting heavily. "Cornelius, Dumbledore needs to stay—"
His words were cut off.
Fudge shook his head stiffly, interrupting, "Rufus, I am the Minister."
Scrimgeour rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair nearby.
"Albus," Fudge's tone softened, his demeanor now timid. He avoided looking toward the grotesque scene at the Slytherin table and shifted his body to face the opposite direction. "I think… you'll still need to come with me."
Dumbledore's expression turned grim. "Cornelius, Hogwarts has just—"
"If it were up to me alone, I'd gladly let you stay," Fudge cut him off again. "But this isn't just my decision."
He flicked his wand.
A roll of parchment flew from his pocket and unrolled in front of Dumbledore. "This is also the decision of the Board of Governors."
"Several members of the Wizengamot agree as well."
Faced with the weight of such bureaucratic measures, the most renowned white wizard of the era said nothing.
Fudge's heart leapt into his throat. His words came out uneven, tripping over themselves in his rising panic: "Albus, are you going to disregard the Ministry and the Board's advice and act against our authority?"
Tom's earlier words hammered relentlessly at Fudge's mind like a mallet against a cymbal, the reverberations growing louder, the waves of doubt swelling higher, until they consumed his reason.
"Cornelius, you know me. I've never had such ambitions," Dumbledore sighed. "If I did, things would have happened long ago."
But these words carried as much weight as the empty promises of a lover.
Fudge didn't believe him.
After all, he and Dumbledore weren't lovers. There was no reason for him to trust such an assurance.
"One day. Just one day," Dumbledore sighed again.
Fudge relaxed slightly, nodding. "We'll resolve everything within the day. Albus, trust us as we trust you."
Harry let out a derisive laugh and shook his head. "Professor, I owe you an apology."
Dumbledore blinked, surprised.
"You know, you only truly understand what it's like when you witness someone whose brain is full of troll dung," Harry said, shrugging.
Fudge's face turned dark.
Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Severus would certainly agree with you."
"You should stay," Harry said, glancing at the wreckage of the Slytherin table. "Tom is arrogant, but he's just taking advantage of the fact that you're pressed for time."
"He's already shown his weakness. Give it half a day, and you can catch him."
They just needed to figure out how he was hiding.
A trick used once is ineffective the second time.
"Yes, I'm well aware," Dumbledore nodded.
Fudge's face grew even more strained, and he clutched at his handkerchief nervously. "Albus…"
"I trust Severus, Minerva, and the other professors," Dumbledore said gently. "They will protect Hogwarts during my absence."
"Harry, you must protect yourself as well."
Harry nodded. "I plan to stay here."
Dumbledore was taken aback.
"Tom's target is me. He might find a way to break into the dormitories," Harry explained, sitting down. If that happened, returning to the dormitory would only endanger the other students.
Scrimgeour's tone turned firm. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter. The Aurors will—"
"The Ministry will ensure your safety," Fudge interrupted, rushing to promise.
Scrimgeour let out a derisive snort, turning his head away.
"Dumbledore, we should go." Fudge urged, his voice rising in urgency. "Shall we use your office's Floo Network? Or Lockhart's office?"
Dumbledore waved his wand dismissively and walked away without a word.
Fudge trotted after him, his steps quick and hurried.
The Great Hall emptied, leaving only Harry and Scrimgeour.
Without his annoying colleague present, the head of the Auror Office turned his gaze to Harry, studying him closely. The Daily Prophet had printed Harry's photo before.
That was during his first year.
Compared to then, Harry appeared stronger, taller, and his lion-like eyes shone with an even sharper edge.
"Mr. Potter, you don't need to worry," Scrimgeour said, attempting to comfort the second-year student. "With me here, I'll ensure your—"
He didn't finish. Harry handed him a potion.
Scrimgeour blinked in confusion.
"A calming draught. You're very tense right now," Harry explained, shaking the vial for emphasis.
Scrimgeour hesitated for a moment before accepting it and downing the potion.
"If the basilisk or Tom shows up, be cautious," Harry continued. "Do you remember what kind of creature a basilisk is?"
"Yes." A soothing warmth spread through Scrimgeour's chest, the lingering pain from the Cruciatus Curse fading entirely. "So, it really is a basilisk?"
Harry nodded. "Don't look it in the eyes."
"The professors have likely set up protective wards specifically for it."
The two chatted for a moment.
Then Scrimgeour realized something was off.
Wasn't he supposed to be the one comforting Harry?
How had the roles reversed?
Before he could reassert himself, Snape stormed in, his tone sharp with suppressed anger. "Where's Dumbledore?"
"He's gone," Harry replied succinctly.
Snape's voice trembled with rage. "How could he? What was he thinking? Did his brain get soaked in the entire Black Lake, leaving you behind like this?"
"No, it was soaked in Fudge," Harry quipped. "The Minister."
Scrimgeour couldn't help but snicker.
Snape shot him a glare.
Scrimgeour straightened his expression. "Professor Snape, shouldn't you be in the Slytherin common room protecting your students? That's your priority, isn't it?"
"Leave this to me."
He brandished his wand as if to shoo Snape away.
"And leave this to you?" Snape sneered, cutting him off. "So, while Potter deals with the threat, he'll also have to protect you, a useless tagalong? When Dumbledore returns, will he find two corpses in the Great Hall?"
Scrimgeour's face flushed.
What did he mean, Harry would have to protect him? He was the head of the Auror Office, after all—a top Auror!
"At least I'm on Potter's side," Scrimgeour retorted, narrowing his eyes. "I won't have to worry about someone casting spells at my back."
"This Scrimgeour fellow shouldn't hold me back," Harry interjected, breaking the tension.
Then he turned to Scrimgeour. "As for Professor Snape, he's someone both Dumbledore and I trust implicitly."
Scrimgeour huffed but said no more.
Snape opened his mouth, ready to continue railing against Dumbledore.
CRASH!
The doors to the Great Hall burst open as a massive figure smashed through.
"Close your eyes!" Harry shouted, snapping his own shut and diving under a table.
The other two followed suit, each using their own protective measures.
"Hunt… Kill…" the basilisk hissed, its voice dripping with murderous intent.
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Powerstones?
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