0179 The Visit

"Let's visit Hagrid first, shall we?" Fudge said with the casual air of someone suggesting a pleasant evening stroll, though the seriousness behind his words was unmistakable.

Dumbledore led their small group across the grounds. The evening air carried the crisp bite of early spring, and shadows stretched across the lawns. In the distance, the Forbidden Forest loomed like a dark wall.

Minister Fudge was exactly the type of politician Adrian had expected—a man who could fill any silence with carefully crafted small talk that revealed nothing while probing for everything.

As they walked the path toward the hut, he chattered nonstop about the unusually mild weather, the promising growth of the castle's gardens, and various other meaningless pleasantries that danced around the elephant in the room.

What surprised Adrian, however, was the intensity of Fudge's interest in him personally. He seemed determined to draw him into conversation, his eyes were observing Adrian's face with the attention like that of a man trying to assess a potentially valuable asset.

"I can tell, Professor Westeros," Fudge said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth as he tried to link arms with Adrian, "that Dumbledore holds you in exceptionally high regard. You must possess quite remarkable talents indeed. What puzzles me, though, is why I've never heard him speak of you before tonight?"

Adrian smoothly took his arm from Fudge's grasp, maintaining his tactful smile while creating a distance between them. "I've spent many years abroad, Minister. My return to Britain is quite recent."

"Ah, what a tremendous loss for our magical community!" Fudge exclaimed with dramatic regret, reaching out to pat Adrian's shoulder with the familiarity like that of an old friend. "But now that you've returned to us, I'm certain you'll achieve great things here in Britain. Tell me, have you ever considered the opportunities available within the Ministry of Magic? A man of your capabilities could go far in public service."

"I find my current position quite fulfilling, thank you," Adrian replied courteously shaking his head.

Fudge's laugh was hearty but hollow, like the sound of coins rattling in an empty purse. "Of course, of course! Hogwarts is indeed a magnificent institution—far more pleasant than the dusty corridors of the Ministry, I'm sure!"

Adrian recognized the words for what they were—empty political flattery designed to create false intimacy and obligation.

Fudge barely knew him; any genuine job offer would be absurd. These were the practiced pleasantries of a politician, meaningless as the mist in morning and twice as insubstantial.

Throughout this conversation, Adrian noticed that Dumbledore remained silent, his face showed him in deep concentration.

By the time they reached Hagrid's humble home, darkness had settled over the grounds. The hut's windows glowed with warm yellow light that should have been welcoming but instead felt somehow fragile against the encroaching night.

Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, carrying the comforting scents of burning wood and something savory cooking within.

Dumbledore stepped forward and rapped his knuckles against the sturdy door with formality.

The sound echoed in the still evening air like a judge's gavel.

"C-coming!" Hagrid's voice drifted through the door, but Adrian's ear immediately caught the tremor of panic. Obviously, Hagrid had already received some advance information from Dumbledore.

The door swung open with a creak, revealing Hagrid's massive body silhouetted against the firelight inside. His usually ruddy face was pale as parchment, and his beetle-black eyes darted nervously between his three visitors like a cornered animal seeking escape routes.

"Please, come in," Hagrid managed, his voice hoarse and strained as if the words were being dragged from his throat against his will.

The interior of Hagrid's hut felt cramped with four adult men inside, though the space was warm and homey. Various mysterious objects hung from the rafters—some recognizable, others more exotic in nature.

Hagrid's emotional state was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. His hands constantly fidgeted with the hem of his moleskin overcoat. Sweat soaked on his forehead despite the comfortable temperature.

Adrian caught Hagrid's eye and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look. Unfortunately, a single glance could hardly calm his nerves.

"Perhaps we might sit down for this conversation?" Fudge suggested with forced cheerfulness, though Adrian noticed him rubbing his neck after craning it upward to address the towering Hagrid. "I find these matters are always easier to discuss in comfort."

Once Hagrid had settled his body into the oversized chair he'd recently constructed, Fudge's demeanor shifted subtly.

The false friendliness didn't disappear, but it took on a sharper edge, like a smile with teeth.

"Hagrid," Fudge began, his voice taking on the formal pace of official business, "I'm afraid the situation has become quite serious indeed. Serious enough that I felt compelled to make this journey personally, despite the late hour. Multiple attacks have occurred at Hogwarts, and I'm told that two students remain petrified in the hospital wing. The Ministry of Magic cannot ignore such events."

Hagrid's face paled as he recited like he was reading from a textbook, "This has nothing to do with me, Minister. I haven't done anything wrong. When these incidents occurred, I was here in my hut the entire time. I had no opportunity to do such things. Besides, the Ministry of Magic cannot arrest someone without evidence."

Adrian suspected that someone else had coached Hagrid on what to say.

His delivery was quite stiff.

Just then, Dumbledore spoke up.

"Cornelius, you must understand that I have complete faith in Hagrid's innocence."

Fudge shifted under Dumbledore's steady gaze, clearly feeling the pressure. He sighed heavily.

"Albus, you must understand that my hands are tied in this matter. Hagrid's... criminal record from his youth have created a significant problem for the Ministry. His criminal record, however old, cannot be ignored. Furthermore, the Board of Governors has already been in contact with my office. Taking Hagrid into custody isn't my preference—it's a political necessity."

"Actually—" Adrian interjected suddenly.

"We already know the identity of the creature responsible for these attacks," Adrian continued, holding the vial up to catch the firelight. "And I can assure you, Minister, that it bears no resemblance whatsoever to any of Hagrid's... little pets."

Fudge's eyes widened as he stared at the vial. He dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief, though whether from the heat of the fire or sudden nervousness was unclear. "What exactly are you suggesting? Have you managed to capture this creature? Do you have concrete evidence?"

Adrian shook his head calmly. "While the creature itself remains free, I did manage to wound it during our encounter." He held up the vial high.

"What's been attacking the students is a basilisk," Adrian explained. "I injured it earlier, and this is the blood it left behind. You're welcome to test the composition of this blood first. I believe the Ministry should have people skilled in this area."

Fudge looked at the bottle of blood incredulously.

"If the Ministry had conducted even a brief investigation," Adrian continued, "you would have discovered that the creature Hagrid kept during his school years was most definitely not a basilisk but some other creature."

Fudge fell silent, his eyes darting between the vial, Adrian's determined face, and Dumbledore's expression.

After a moment, he said in a very unnatural tone: "Even if this evidence proves accurate, it doesn't completely clear Hagrid of suspicion. Who can say what other dangerous creatures he might have kept over the years? The Ministry must consider all possibilities."

Hagrid's chair creaked alarmingly as he surged to his feet. "I swear on my mother's grave, I haven't kept anything dangerous! Apart from Aragog, I've never kept anything else!"

However, Fudge's expression said that he neither knew nor cared what 'Aragog' might be.

"This is merely a precautionary measure," Fudge continued, his eyes carefully avoiding Hagrid's pleading gaze as he addressed Dumbledore instead. "I truly have no choice in this matter, Albus. The political pressure from the Board, from concerned parents, from the Prophet—it's becoming impossible to manage. I must be seen taking decisive action. Rest assured, if Hagrid proves innocent, he'll be returned safely to his position. But for now, we must take him away."

Hagrid sank back into his chair with a thud that rattled the windows, his massive hands trembling as they gripped the armrests.

"Where will you take me?" he whispered, his voice coming small and sounding lost. "Not Azkaban, Surely?"

"If everything proceeds smoothly, you'll be back here soon," Fudge replied, still refusing to meet Hagrid's eyes.

Despite the Minister's evasive answer, everyone in the room understood the unspoken truth.

Though he didn't receive a definitive answer, Hagrid also knew that given the current situation, his trip to Azkaban was a foregone conclusion. He opened his mouth but didn't know what to say.

"You're making a catastrophic mistake, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, his voice carrying a edge that Adrian had never heard before. His eyes blazed with fury, and for a moment, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. " Taking Hagrid away will accomplish nothing."

Adrian could feel the raw power radiating from Dumbledore's anger.

"I don't want to either—"

Just as Fudge began to speak, a "beep beep" sound came from somewhere on within his formal robes. He fumbled frantically at his pockets before taking out a gold pocket watch.

"Oh dear, time has gotten away from me!" He exclaimed, snapping the watch closed with force. "I really must return to London immediately. The official Ministry representatives will arrive within the next few days to handle the formal proceedings. Tonight's visit was purely... unofficial. A courtesy call, you might say."

With those inadequate words hanging in the air, Fudge practically fled the hut.

After the door closed, Hagrid slumped in his chair and covered his face with his large, rough hands.

"What am I going to do?" he said, his voice trembling. "That... that's Azkaban."

Adrian moved behind Hagrid's chair and placed a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder.

"Don't be afraid, Hagrid," Adrian said softly, "I'm going to give you something that will help you deal with the Dementors. Since you won't be an official prisoner, just someone held for questioning—they likely won't confiscate your personal belongings during the process."

Hagrid looked up with desperate hope flickering in his reddened eyes. "Really?"

Adrian nodded. "However, it will take about two days to make."

Hearing this, Hagrid felt somewhat reassured.

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