At this moment, Fudge glanced at Dumbledore beside the hospital bed, whose expression was rather complicated, and for the first time in his life, he felt a sense of triumph over the old man.
Heaven knew how much he feared the threat Dumbledore posed to his position!
After all, this renowned White Wizard was not only incredibly powerful, but had students and connections spread throughout the entire wizarding world.
If Dumbledore had even the slightest intention of taking over as Minister for Magic, Fudge firmly believed that he would be swept out of office the very next moment.
Therefore, every time Fudge faced Dumbledore, the pressure was enormous.
But this time, Fudge felt that he had truly been a genius.
With only a tiny price, he had resolved an enormous political crisis.
Surely, after seeing this, even Dumbledore would be deeply wary of his methods and would no longer dare underestimate him.
As though afraid Charles might change his mind, Fudge immediately summoned officials from the Ministry who specialized in drafting proposals.
At the fastest possible speed, they prepared a document right there on the spot.
Then, after Charles signed his name, Fudge firmly stamped it with the seal representing the authority of the Minister for Magic.
Once the seal was applied, Fudge let out a long breath.
It was as though a massive boulder pressing down on his chest had finally been lifted.
“Now then, dear Charles, you should get some proper rest.”
“Eat whatever you want. Don’t worry about saving money for the Ministry of Magic.”
“The Ministry exists to serve wizards, especially young wizards like you.”
“We still have some matters to deal with, so we’ll be seeing you later, Charles.”
Fudge said his goodbyes enthusiastically before leading his aides out of St.
Mungo’s Hospital.
The moment they left the hospital ward, his aides could no longer conceal their admiration.
They were practically worshipping their minister.
“Minister, that move of yours was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”
“When Charles said he wanted to reveal the truth to the public, I was already panicking. I had no idea what we were supposed to do.”
“Only you, Minister, could have come up with such a genius solution.”
“Covering his food expenses? What a trivial condition!”
“And yet it immediately resolved such a huge problem.”
“We can even use it for publicity, showing the entire magical world that our Ministry cares about vulnerable groups.”
“Brilliant. Truly brilliant!”
Faced with his aides’ praise, Fudge became intoxicated with himself.
The corners of his mouth rose like an AK bullet trajectory and simply refused to come back down.
Normally, his aides praised him as well.
But there was always a certain amount of exaggeration involved.
How could that compare to such sincere admiration?
“Nothing special, nothing special.”
“He’s just a child. He’s quite easy to deal with.”
“The key is understanding the human heart.”
“Dumbledore is powerful, isn’t he?”
“Heh.”
“But he doesn’t understand people.”
“That’s why he can’t become Minister for Magic.”
As Fudge and his aides continued boasting and chatting while leaving St.
Mungo’s Hospital, an owl suddenly flew out of the hospital.
It dropped a bill directly into Fudge’s arms.
Fudge smiled.
“Just as expected of a child. He simply can’t resist good food.”
As he spoke, Fudge opened the envelope, intending to take out the bill and hand it to one of his aides to deal with.
But the very next moment, Fudge froze.
He looked suspiciously at his aides.
“Can someone answer a question for me?”
“How many copies does a St. Mungo’s Hospital bill usually have?”
“And why is this bill more than a dozen pages long?”
“Don’t tell me they’re using some ridiculous accounting method where they charge for every single Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Bean individually!”
Suddenly, Fudge developed a very ominous feeling.
He hurriedly examined the details of the bill.
Then his entire expression went blank.
“St. Mungo’s Magical Recovery Meal, Large Portion — twenty servings.”
“Rapid Recovery Meal for Bruises and Injuries — twenty servings.”
“One hundred Chocolate Frogs.”
“…”
“Bloody hell!”
“Fifty bags of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans?!”
“Is Charles planning to open a bloody convenience store?!”
Fudge abruptly turned around and glared at the aide who had drafted the magical agreement.
His expression was distinctly unfriendly.
“When you drafted the agreement, did you clearly specify that it only applied when Charles himself was eating the food?”
“Takeout and resale aren’t covered by the Ministry, right?”
“You wrote that clearly, didn’t you?”
The aide swallowed nervously and nodded repeatedly.
“I did!”
“I swear I really did!”
“There’s absolutely no loophole left for Charles to exploit!”
Fudge remained stunned for a long time.
“Then what does this mean?”
“You’re telling me Charles ate all of this himself?!”
“Bloody hell!”
“Did a Hufflepuff reincarnate or something?!”
After standing there in a daze for quite some time, Fudge finally recovered from the feeling of having just been thoroughly screwed over.
He forced a smile.
Partly to comfort himself and partly to comfort his aides, he said,
“Forget it, forget it.”
“Having a slightly larger appetite isn’t a big deal.”
“Our Ministry of Magic isn’t so poor that we can’t even afford this much.”
“At least Charles is eating ordinary food.”
“He isn’t using rare magical ingredients or expensive potions as meals.”
“We can still afford to support him.”
“This deal…”
“We’re not losing money.” Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
“Definitely not losing money, okay?”
…
Fudge and his aides left while repeatedly reassuring one another—
“Not losing money.”
“Not losing money.”
Meanwhile, back inside St.
Mungo’s Hospital, Dumbledore was holding something resembling a dessert-sharing party with Charles.
After seeing Charles’s astonishing appetite, as well as his seemingly limitless taste for both meat and vegetables without the slightest picky streak, Dumbledore—who had always enjoyed strange sweets—couldn’t resist bringing out his personal collection.
Among them was a pile of candies called Cockroach Clusters, which looked like cockroaches and even burst with juice when bitten.
They were one of Dumbledore’s personal favorites.
To his delight, Charles showed absolutely no disgust toward the sweets that almost every member of the staff normally avoided.
Instead, he looked delighted.
One after another, he stuffed them into his mouth at lightning speed.
Dumbledore couldn’t help feeling that he had finally found a kindred spirit.
Charles, meanwhile, was practically overjoyed.
The food, desserts, and snacks of the magical world really did provide quite a lot of Deduction Points.
At least dozens of times more than ordinary food!
Charles made a rough estimate.
If he ate like this at every meal, he could gain three or four hundred Deduction Points every day.
That would be more than ten thousand points in a single month.
That was more than he had accumulated over the past ten years combined!
And this was only ordinary food from the magical world.
If Charles started eating stranger things—such as magical creatures containing large amounts of magical energy, certain alchemical objects, potions, and so on—the number of points he could obtain would increase dramatically.
Of course, if he continued eating at this rate, his current savings wouldn’t be nearly enough to support him.
There was another problem as well.
Purchasing goods in the magical world required magical currency, and there was an annual limit on how much Muggle currency could be exchanged for wizarding money.
In the original story, Hermione’s father was a dentist, and her family was quite well-off.
There was no way Hermione would be short of pocket money.
Yet whenever Hermione wanted to buy something in the magical world, she still had to painstakingly save her money.
With Charles eating like this, the few Galleons he could obtain through the annual exchange limit wouldn’t even be enough to fill the gaps between his teeth.
But what could he do?
Minister Fudge, that kind and generous man, had signed such an agreement with Charles.
He had completely eliminated Charles’s financial worries!
Thinking about this, Charles’s impression of Fudge was completely refreshed.
What Death Eater spy?
What Death Eater without the Dark Mark?
What great contributor who would supposedly be responsible for handling Voldemort’s return?
“I, Charles, forbid you people from slandering Minister Fudge like this.”
“Minister Fudge…”
“Is truly a great and benevolent man!”
…
(End of Chapter)