Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

Ministry of Magic, First Underground Floor, Minister's Office - Early Morning

The corridor outside the Minister for Magic's office was always a hive of activity on workdays, packed with Ministry employees from various departments needing to report affairs or get signatures. In the days following the attack at the Quidditch match, this situation was particularly extreme, with people queuing from Fudge's office door all the way to the elevator hall.

Today was no exception to this new norm. The early morning light filtering through the enchanted windows did little to lift the mood of anxiety that filled the air. Normally at this hour, the Minister's office door would be flung wide open to 'welcome guests,' Yet today, unlike the past few mornings, it remained resolutely shut.

Even Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister was blocked by the closed door. She could could be seen huffing and puffing repeatedly attempting to gain entry. Her usually sugary voice took on a shrill edge as she called out, "Minister? Minister Fudge?" But her efforts were in vain; the door remained closed.

The crowd of employees, their patience wearing thin, began to whisper among themselves. Theories flew back and forth like a game of magical catch.

"Did you see that group from the Auror Office?" A witch in midnight blue robes murmured to her colleague. "They practically ran in there!"

"Merlin's beard, what do you think it could be?" replied a wizard with an impressively curled mustache. "Another attack?"

"Surely not," A young witch gasped clutching a stack of parchments. "Not so soon after the Quidditch disaster!"

Their speculations grew wilder with each passing minute. What earth-shattering case could need such secrecy?

Little did they know that the atmosphere inside the Minister's luxurious office was even more charged than the corridor outside.

A heated argument had been raging all morning in the office, growing more intense with each passing hour. Sirius and Dawlish had been at each other's throats since dawn, their voices rising and falling, neither willing to give an inch. The subject of their fierce argument was none other than Remus.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror Office, observed the clash with thinly veiled irritation. His yellowish-brown hair seemed to bristle with each shouted accusation. His piercing yellow eyes darted between the two, occasionally narrowing in disapproval at Sirius, his subordinate who seemed to have forgotten all sense of hierarchy and propriety.

Kingsley had attempted several times to soothe the situation. His deep, calming voice and reasonable arguments had fallen on deaf ears. Now he stood back, his bald head gleaming in the lamplight as he turned his head, watching the argument with a mixture of concern and resignation.

"That despicable fellow!" Dawlish's shout reverberated off the office walls. The veins in his neck stood out like strings as he pointed an accusing finger in Sirius's direction. "I've seen through it all, Black! He is trying to use every dirty trick in the book to obstruct the Ministry's investigation, isn't he?"

Dawlish's gray hair, usually neatly combed, now stood on end as if he'd been struck by a mild Shocking Jinx. His wizard's robes, tailored to fit his muscular frame, strained at the joints as he leaned forward aggressively. "And you, Black," he continued, his voice dropping to a menacing growl, "you've been covering for him all along, haven't you? Trying to buy time, throwing us off the scent – pun very much intended!"

Sirius's response was equally heated. His gray eyes flashed with a cold fury. "Watch your words, you ignorant oaf!" His voice dripped with icy contempt as he continued, "There isn't a shred of evidence proving Remus is guilty of anything. Did it ever occur to your thick skull that he might have just been there by accident?"

Sirius took a step closer to Dawlish. "And let me make this crystal clear for you, since you seem to have trouble grasping simple concepts," he said, voicing each word as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "Even if – and that's a massive 'if' – Remus is somehow involved, he has every right to receive proper medical treatment at St. Mungo's before being subjected to the Ministry's so-called 'inquiry'!"

"Absurd!" Dawlish roared, his face now turning violet. If they hadn't been standing in the Minister's office under the watchful eyes of their superiors, Dawlish might have already drawn his wand to hex Sirius.

In Dawlish's mind, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were cut from the same cloth – dangerous, untrustworthy, and a menace to proper wizarding society. One had spent over a decade in Azkaban, only escaping judgment through a series of unlikely events and powerful connections. And the other...

"The law is meant to protect wizards!" Dawlish growled through clenched teeth, saliva flying from his lips. His hand twitched towards his wand holster as he glared at Sirius with undisguised loathing. "It wasn't written for the benefit of filthy, lowly werewolves!"

The moment those words left Dawlish's mouth, it was as if someone had cast Immobulus on the entire room. The tense atmosphere, which had been simmering like a volatile potion all morning, suddenly reached its boiling point. If the previous arguments had been a slowly burning fuse, Dawlish's unrestrained comment was the spark that ignited the powder keg.

In a flash of movement almost too quick to follow, Sirius's wand appeared in his hand. With the skill and speed of a duelist, he pressed it directly towards Dawlish's face, the tip just a few inches from the nose. Sirius's eyes blazed with a combination of fury and barely contained magic, his chest heaving as he struggled to control his rage.

"Apologize!" Sirius demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Apologize right now, Dawlish, or I swear by Merlin's grave, I'll give you a reason to spend a few days in St. Mungo's yourself!"

Dawlish also drew his own wand with equal speed. The two stood frozen in a deadlock, wands pointed at each other's faces, neither willing to make the first move or the first concession.

"Compared to St. Mungo's," Dawlish sneered, his wand hand steady. "I'd rather send you straight back to Azkaban where you belong, Black!"

The tension in the room reached a fever pitch. It seemed that at any moment, curses would start flying, turning the Minister's office into a battleground.

Just as it seemed the situation would escalate into a full-blown duel, a new voice cut through the chaos. Rufus Scrimgeour, who had been watching the exchange with growing irritation, suddenly straightened to his full, impressive height.

"What do you two think you're doing?!" Scrimgeour's voice boomed through the office, drowning out all other noise. He strode between Sirius and Dawlish, his own wand drawn but pointed at the floor.

His gaze swept from one man to the other. "Have you both lost your minds?" he continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "For a criminal, are you going to blow up the Minister's office?!"

At these words, Sirius immediately redirected his furious glare from Dawlish to Scrimgeour. Meanwhile, a barely perceptible smirk of satisfaction flickered across Dawlish's face rugged eyes.

On the other side, Kingsley's eyes narrowed slightly. Unable to openly take a stance without compromising his own position, he instead turned his attention to the one person in the room who had remained surprisingly quiet throughout the entire ordeal.

Cornelius Fudge sat behind his massive desk, seemingly oblivious to the near-duel that had almost erupted in his office. His round face was creased with a deep frown, his gaze unfocused as if looking at something far beyond the walls of his office.

This behavior was entirely out of character for the usually image-conscious and self-opinionated Fudge. A heated conflict was literally unfolding few feet from his desk, yet he appeared completely indifferent to it. What could possibly be occupying his thoughts so completely that he would ignore such a volatile situation in his own office?

Fudge had indeed been in this distracted state for most of the morning. He had listened halfheartedly to both sides of the argument for a while, nodding at appropriate intervals and making noncommittal "hmm" sounds. But as the debate had grown more heated, Fudge had withdrawn into his own thoughts, barely listening the raised voices and accusations flying around his office.

This wasn't normal, was it? Kingsley knew that Fudge should be all over this conflict, using it to his advantage or at least making a show of mediating. Instead, he sat in unusual silence.

'What was Fudge pondering so intently? What could be more pressing than a near-brawl between two of his Aurors?'

Unable to guess the Minister's thoughts and aware of the need to defuse the immediate crisis, Kingsley finally spoke up. "Perhaps we should all take a moment to collect ourselves, No one wants to see you and your colleague come to blows in the Minister's office, Sirius. It would reflect poorly on all of us."

Kingsley put particular emphasis on the words 'no one,' his eyes flicking meaningfully towards Fudge. He hoped Sirius would catch his subtle hint – that escalating this conflict could have far-reaching consequences beyond just this room. However, Sirius, still seething with righteous anger on behalf of his friend, seemed oblivious to Kingsley's attempt at mediation.

Scrimgeour, on the other hand, didn't miss Kingsley's careful choice of words. He shot Kingsley a piercing glance, his lion-like eyes narrowing suspiciously.

The tense standoff might have continued indefinitely if not for a sudden interruption. The heavy oak door of the office, which had been quiet for the past hour, suddenly reverberated with a series of sharp knocks. The person on the other side was practically pounding on the door, their voice carrying clearly through the thick wood, filled with excitement.

"Minister!" the voice called out, the words tumbling over each other in their haste to be heard. "Minister Fudge! Are you there, Minister?"

After nearly two months of working, Sirius had become quite familiar with the people in the Ministry. He immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Dirk Cresswell who had recently been appointed as the new head of the Goblin Liaison Office.

Sirius had a pleasant, if not particularly close, relationship with Cresswell. It wasn't a connection he had actively sought out, but rather one that had developed spontaneously through their common acquaintance.

Dirk had approached Sirius early on, eager to discuss about Bryan Watson, a fellow Slytherin whom Dirk greatly admired. On days when Sirius wasn't out on field assignments, Dirk would often seek him out, showering him with questions about Bryan's time at Hogwarts and his subsequent rise to prominence.

Hearing Dirk's excited voice now, Sirius's brow furrowed in confusion, momentarily distracted from his anger and lowered his wand.

"There's someone you absolutely must see, Minister!" Dirk continued to bang on the door when he received no immediate response. "It's urgent!"

Fudge, startled out of his reverie by the commotion, blinked rapidly as if coming out of a trance. His chubby face contorted into a mask of irritation as he called out in an irritable tone, "I'm in the middle of something extremely important, Dirk! If it's convenient, you can ask the visitor to get a number from Dolores and wait outside with everyone else!"

The knocking outside stopped for only a second before resuming. Dirk shouted at the top of his voice, "Are you absolutely certain about that, Minister?" Dirk's voice rose to a near-shout, excitement. The words tumbled out in a rush, as if he feared the door might be silenced at any moment. "It's Mr. Watson — Bryan Watson himself is right here, waiting to see you!"

Sirius's eyes widened. The anger on his face and the pressure he had been under for the past two days vanished. He was about to move to open the door, but Scrimgeour gave him a stern look and skillfully shifted sideways, blocking his path.

At the mention of Bryan's name, Fudge's face had lit up with visible relief. For a brief moment, it seemed as though all his worries had evaporated. But this expression of ease lasted for only a few fleeting seconds before his face tensed up once more, anxiety creeping back into his face.

"Bryan?" Fudge repeated, half-rising from his chair. But then, as quickly as he had started to stand, Fudge sank back into his seat. His eyes darted nervously around the room, taking in the tense faces of the Aurors surrounding him.

"Ahem—" Fudge made a show of clearing his throat, a poor attempt to cover his moment of visible indecision. He coughed a few times, adjusting his coat which had gone slightly awry in his agitation. When he spoke again, he tried to inject a note of casual indifference into his voice. "Alright then, Dirk. You may show him in."

As Dirk's footsteps could be heard retreating from the door, presumably to fetch Bryan, the atmosphere in the office shifted once again. Rufus Scrimgeour and John Dawlish exchanged a glance, their faces simultaneously darkening.

After only a few seconds, the door swung open. Bryan stepped into the Minister's office. As soon as his eyes swept the room, he noted Rufus Scrimgeour and Dawlish's gloomy expressions, their eyes were fixed on him with a mixture of suspicion and resentment. He saw the relief in Sirius's gaze while Kingsley had a warm but cautious smile which did not escape his notice, nor did the nervous fidgeting of Fudge behind his desk.

Bryan could sense the tense atmosphere in the office without much effort. He could also guess what had just happened — Sirius and Dawlish were still holding their wands! As for the reason for the conflict, it went without saying.

Nevertheless, Bryan masked his initial reaction quickly. His face settled into an expression of polite puzzlement, as if he had just walked in on a mildly interesting but ultimately ordinary scene. With the air of someone genuinely confused by the atmosphere, he turned towards Fudge at the desk.

"Have I perhaps come at an inconvenient moment, Minister?" Bryan asked, his tone a perfect blend of concern and confusion. He gestured vaguely at the group; his eyebrows raised in questioning. "If this is a bad time, I'd be more than happy to come back later. I wouldn't want to interrupt anything important."

Fudge, caught off guard by Bryan's direct address, fumbled for a response. "Of course not!" he exclaimed, a forced smile stretching across his round face. He waved a hand dismissively, as if trying to brush away the tension in the room. "We were just… ah… discussing some routine work. Nothing that can't wait, I assure you!"

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