I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 324 Skeleton King Fudge

In summary, Louis's mentality was simply boredom; he wanted to see bloodshed.

Life is already tiring enough, wouldn't it be better to have some fun?

Snape gave a disdainful smirk, grabbed Barty Crouch Jr., and then rolled up his left sleeve.

Fudge's pupils shrank drastically as he retreated in horror.

"Do you see it?" Snape's voice was hoarse. "Do you see it? The Dark Mark... Ha, I think you should know what the Dark Mark is and what it represents. It's not as obvious as it was an hour ago; back then, it was even charred black..."

"But you can still see it. Every Death Eater has a brand left by Voldemort. This is a way for Death Eaters to recognize each other, and it's also a code for Voldemort to summon them back to his side. When he touches a Death Eater's mark, we must immediately Apparate and appear next to him."

"Over the past year, this mark has become increasingly clear... Karkaroff's too. You ask why Karkaroff ran away tonight? As a former Death Eater, he felt the mark burning hot, and we all knew he was back. Karkaroff was afraid Voldemort would take his revenge. He betrayed many of his Death Eater companions, and certainly no one would welcome him back among them."

Snape stared coldly at Fudge with his hawk-like gaze, as if he wanted to tear a piece of flesh from him. But in reality, he was lying. Karkaroff's Dark Mark had already been removed by Louis, and Karkaroff's early return was only to help Louis with his plans in Europe.

But in Snape's view, this was undoubtedly something that could be used, and if done properly, it might help Fudge accept this bitter truth.

But he clearly overestimated Fudge's integrity. Politicians see things differently than ordinary people; they are more concerned with approval ratings and their own positions than with others.

Fudge retreated from Snape's presence. He shook his head repeatedly, seemingly not having heard a word Snape said. His eyes widened, clearly horrified by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then he looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I don't know what tricks you and your men are playing, Dumbledore, but I've had enough... I don't want to say anything more. I'll contact you again tomorrow, Dumbledore. I hope you can calm down, and we can discuss the school's management properly. I must return to the Ministry of Magic."

Fudge was completely unaware that the one who actually needed to calm down was himself. Politicians, after all, are always self-important—but then again, a person with any sense of shame can't be a politician.

He stopped at the door, as if he had remembered something, and quickly turned around, striding across the room to stop beside Harry's bed.

"The prize money you won," he said curtly, a hint of resentment in his eyes—it seemed utterly unacceptable to give this money to the Parseltongue liar he considered a scoundrel. He pulled a large bag of gold coins from his pocket and tossed it onto Harry's bedside table. "A thousand Galleons. There was supposed to be an award ceremony, but in the current situation—"

He glanced around at the people, pulled his top hat over his head, and looked at Snape again: "So, Professor Snape, if you don't mind?"

Fudge spoke while looking at Barty Crouch Jr., whom Snape was carrying.

Snape didn't have any objections; Barty Crouch Jr. was going to return to Azkaban anyway—and even face trial. He clapped his hands, and two men walked in from outside, followed by a hooded Dementors. They carried Barty Crouch Jr. out of the room. At the door, Fudge turned around, gave Dumbledore a deep look, and slammed the door shut behind him.

The door slammed shut, and it was clear he was unhappy. As soon as he left, Dumbledore turned and looked at the group of people around Harry's bed.

"There's some work to be done," Dumbledore said, looking at Aunt Molly with a hint of melancholy. "Molly... if I'm not mistaken, I could count on you and Arthur, could I?"

Although Dumbledore had anticipated Fudge's actions and words, he still felt deeply disappointed.

“Of course, no problem,” Aunt Molly replied, her face pale and lips bloodless, but her expression resolute. “We know what kind of person Fudge is. It’s precisely because Arthur likes Muggles that his advancement in the Ministry of Magic has been hindered all these years. Fudge believes Arthur lacks the dignity a wizard should have.”

"Very well, I need to send a letter to Arthur," Dumbledore said, his hands folded in his lap. "We must immediately inform all those who, under our persuasion, can recognize the situation. Arthur can contact those in the Ministry of Magic who are not as short-sighted as Cornelius."

"I'm going to find Dad," Bill said, standing up abruptly. "I'm going right now."

“Excellent,” Dumbledore said. “Tell him what has happened these past two days. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him soon. But he must be careful—if Fudge thinks I am interfering in the Ministry of Magic, it will provoke a series of unnecessary reactions from him.”

"No problem, leave it to me," Bill said confidently. He patted Harry on the shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, put on his cloak, and strode out of the room.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said, turning to Professor McGonagall, “I would like to see Hagrid in my office. And—Mrs. Maxime—if she would like to come as well.”

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without saying a word.

"And you two," Dumbledore said, turning his gaze to Sirius and Snape. "I hope that in the time to come, you two can put aside your differences and work together to fight Voldemort and protect Hogwarts... I know this isn't difficult. I trust Sirius, and I trust you just as much, Severus. I trust both of you. What you need most now is mutual trust!"

Everyone thought Dumbledore had really gone mad—the relationship between Sirius and Snape was as obvious as a louse on a bald man's head—it was impossible to get them to work together, no less difficult than getting the sun to rise in the west.

Sirius and Snape stared at each other, their faces clearly showing mutual loathing.

"For the short term," Dumbledore said, a hint of impatience in his voice, "I'll be satisfied as long as you don't openly oppose each other. You might as well shake hands... Now you're on the same side, time is of the essence, and we few who know the truth must unite, or we'll all be doomed."

Louis felt that Dumbledore was like a kindergarten teacher from his past life, making two quarreling children shake hands and make up—the two of them had a particularly strong sense of déjà vu now.

Sirius and Snape walked up very slowly and shook hands, but they still glared at each other fiercely, as if they both wished the other bad luck—of course, they quickly let go of each other's hands.

"That's more like it," Dumbledore said. "I hope you two can unite and work together against external threats, instead of wasting your energy on internal strife. Hogwarts should value harmony above all else, and avoid infighting..."

"I didn't object." Sirius stared intently at Snape, his face full of disdain.

Snape snorted, a disdainful smile curving his lips beneath his hooked nose: "I don't object..."

His voice was greasy, as always.

Louis was truly unbearable to watch. How should I put it? Two men make a drama… no, two old men make a drama? Ugh…

"Now you both have missions. Fudge's attitude, though we anticipated it, has changed the whole situation." Dumbledore stood in front of them, his aged hand resting on Sirius's shoulder, and said earnestly, "Sirius, I need you to leave immediately. Go and inform Remus Lupin, Arabella Feig, and Mundungus Fletcher—and you, hide with Lupin for now. I will contact you from there."

Sirius nodded seriously. As a dog-like boy, he was always quite obedient, especially to the principal.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, turning to Snape, "you know what I'm going to tell you to do... if you have no objections... if you're ready."

Louis thought to himself, "I hate riddle-mongers the most. Why are these two having an encrypted call here? Is there something they're up to?"

"No problem," Snape said. His face looked paler than usual, and his cold, dark eyes gleamed with an eerie light.

"Well then, good luck," Dumbledore said with a complicated expression, a hint of worry on his face as he watched Snape silently follow Sirius away.

A few more minutes passed before Dumbledore finally spoke.

"I have to go downstairs," he finally said. "I have to see the Diggorys. Harry drank the rest of his potion. I'll come back to see you all later."

After saying that, Dumbledore left the room without looking back, leaving without a trace. Harry collapsed onto the pillow, letting out a groan.

Even after lying down all night, it was hard to hide the exhaustion. Especially after Fudge was giving orders and talking big, and it looked like he was about to have a big argument with Dumbledore, Harry really felt incredibly tired.

Fortunately, the warriors had all been discharged from the hospital long ago, leaving only Harry and the badly injured Marilyn lying in the room. Otherwise, Fudge would have made a huge fool of himself today.

Just as he was about to speak, Catherine pushed the door open and entered.

"Little Moon," Louis said lazily, sprawled on the other bed, "I really wish you had come sooner, then you would have had a good show..."

"What's the show?" Catherine asked, raising her eyebrows.

"It's about Fudge," Louis shifted into a more comfortable position and yawned. "Dumbledore and Fudge just had a heated argument. It seems like a split between them is inevitable... I think we should start making plans too. Fudge is nothing but a skeleton in a tomb; he'll be taken care of by Voldemort sooner or later."

Good grief, you're the Skeleton King too?

I just don't know if it will have a Netherfire Critical Strike, or a Netherworld Regeneration... Oh no, this is the Netherworld Brother.

"I know that, Little Deer." Catherine walked over and sat down beside Louis, gently patting his head. After a moment's thought, she said, "Mother has resigned from her job at the Ministry of Magic. She thinks Fudge and his group are too stubborn and not worth working for. She accepted Professor Dumbledore's invitation and went back to...

At this point, Catherine pressed her finger to her red lips, thought for a moment, but still couldn't remember the name of the organization.

"It's the Order of the Phoenix, isn't it?" Aunt Molly's gaze softened as she helped Catherine pronounce the name of the mysterious organization. "It's an organization that Professor Dumbledore formed to fight Voldemort. Speaking of which, Headmaster Dumbledore was a great man. He had no prejudice against any group or bloodline. Whether it was a Muggle, a Squib, a bartender, or a thief, he could unite them all to fight against Voldemort's evil rule..."

"Perhaps that's one of the reasons he was able to defeat Voldemort." Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes filled with admiration. "After I graduate, I definitely want to join the Order of the Phoenix and become a great wizard like Dumbledore, without discrimination or prejudice..."

"You're overthinking it, Hermione." Harry was a little sleepy, but his mind was still clear—thanks to Lylastrasa's treatment of his body with the breath of the red dragon. He grinned and said, "Learning only his personality is useless. A noble personality can't defeat Voldemort. The reason Dumbledore was able to defeat Voldemort was simply because his magical skills were far superior to Voldemort's."

Hermione didn't speak; she knew Harry was right. She just glared at him and immediately changed the subject: "I think you have to drink the rest of the potion, Harry." She reached for the potion bottle and goblet, pouring Harry a full glass. "Come on, Harry, be a good boy and get some sleep. Rest is the most important thing for you right now..."

It gives off a "Sir, it's time to take your medicine" vibe no matter how you look at it.

"I suspect you've got poison, Hermione," Harry said honestly. "After all, I just said something that offended you. You didn't put anything in it, did you?"

"It's truth serum, I added it," Hermione said very seriously, slamming the goblet on the table and giving Harry a disapproving look. "Drink it or don't, it's your body's responsibility. Don't come looking for me when you're feeling unwell from lack of rest!"

"Okay, I'll drink it." Harry shrugged, took the goblet, and drank the potion in one gulp.

In the last second before he lost consciousness, he seemed to hear Hermione and Ron's eerie laughter.

(End of this chapter)