Just then, another deafening explosion rang out. At the sound, Thomas Vole struggled to his feet, urgency etched across his face as he turned to Cornelius Fudge.
"Minister, you must go! The British Ministry of Magic can do without me—but not without you! Let me use what's left of this useless body to shield you from one more spell!"
Though Cornelius Fudge was already a seasoned politician, he was deeply moved by Vole's words in such a dire moment.
Meanwhile, not far from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Wentworth and Cassandra stood watching the scene unfold silently from a hidden vantage point.
Seeing the Alliance charge into the hospital as planned, Cassandra suddenly turned to Wentworth and whispered, "Wentworth, those lines you wrote for my father—don't you think they're a bit much? I felt sick just hearing them. I honestly doubt he can even say them with a straight face!"
Wentworth merely smirked confidently, arching a brow at her. "Cassandra, you're underestimating your father. Don't forget, he used to be Head of the Auror Office at the British Ministry of Magic!"
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "So what? What does that prove?"
"It proves," Wentworth explained with a grin, "that whether or not he was the Ministry's best Auror is debatable—but he was certainly the best politician among them!"
Cassandra still looked unconvinced, but Wentworth sighed and changed the subject.
"Rather than worrying about your father, we should be more concerned about Fudge. Where on earth is Scrimgeour? If we keep dragging this out, the whole show might fall apart! We can't exactly run up and spare Fudge again—it'd be far too obvious!"
He glanced around impatiently, searching for any sign of Scrimgeour, and muttered, half to himself, "That old fox isn't hiding somewhere watching all this unfold, waiting for us to finish off Fudge so he can sweep in and clean up the mess… is he?"
As he spoke, sharp cracks filled the air—the sound of Apparition. A squad of Aurors appeared near St Mungo's, led by none other than Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office.
Seeing Scrimgeour arrive, Wentworth finally let out a long breath of relief.
Inside the hospital, the Alliance wizards also spotted the arriving Aurors. Upon seeing Scrimgeour, Carrow bellowed furiously:
"You Ministry dogs! Can't handle the game, so you brought in reinforcements?!"
He swung his wand and shouted again:
"Dirty tricks from the Ministry—fall back! We'll settle this score eventually!"
With that, Carrow led the Alliance members toward the rear of the hospital to escape.
Scrimgeour gave chase, casting spells as he led the Aurors in pursuit.
Back in one of the wards, Fudge and his companions were laughing heartily, relieved to have made it through the ordeal. All that was missing was a bottle of champagne to celebrate.
But Thomas Vole, lying wounded, murmured thoughtfully:
"Scrimgeour's still a bit green… If it were me, the first thing I'd do is seal off this ward. What if the Purebloods are planning a second strike? This could be a classic case of bait-and-switch."
"Still, I suppose he's eager to make a name for himself. It's understandable he didn't think of it right away."
Fudge, hearing this and recalling both Scrimgeour's performance and Vole's earlier willingness to take a spell for him, felt his pride take a hit.
He immediately turned to Dolores Umbridge.
"Go. Have Scrimgeour bring the Aurors back. We need to move Thomas Vole to a secure location at once! We can't let the hero of the Ministry be exposed to any more danger from the Alliance!"
Umbridge nodded briskly and hurried off to deliver the order.
Though Scrimgeour felt a stab of frustration and regret, he couldn't defy Fudge's command. He watched helplessly as the Alliance fled out the back of the hospital and then Apparated away.
Led by Umbridge, Scrimgeour returned to the ward to meet with Fudge.
As soon as he entered, he couldn't help but complain.
"Minister, if I'd had just thirty more minutes—thirty minutes!—I could've captured those Pureblood bastards!"
Fudge, hearing Scrimgeour complain the moment he walked in, immediately scowled.
"Scrimgeour, are you so sure they don't have a backup plan?! What if this was all a diversion? What if they double back after you've taken the Aurors away?!"
Scrimgeour fell silent, unable to offer a retort.
Seeing his words hit home, Fudge felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Then, turning to the injured Thomas Vole, he softened his tone.
"Thomas, focus on your recovery. Heal quickly—but not too leisurely, mind you! The Ministry still needs you. There's more important work ahead."
Vole gratefully nodded and thanked him sincerely.
Meanwhile, back outside, not far from St Mungo's, Wentworth and his group were still watching from the shadows. Seeing Carrow and the Alliance escape safely, Wentworth finally let out a deep breath.
"Well, that's half the plan successfully done," he said quietly.
Cedric immediately asked, "Half? What do you mean by half?"
Wentworth replied, "Up to this point, as long as Thomas Vole didn't ruin his own performance, he's guaranteed to rise through the Ministry ranks after he's discharged."
"What we need to do now is make sure he ends up exactly where we want him."
Cedric and Cassandra both looked puzzled, but Wentworth just smiled cryptically and turned to Auston Greengrass, who stood nearby.
"Let's go. Lead the way. Our next stop—Malfoy Manor."
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