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Chapter 26 The Hospital Assignment Ceremony in the Ward

For many people—such as Minister of Magic Fudge, Hogwarts faculty and staff, young wizards, the healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Arts who came to help, and even Ares—it was a terrible day.

However, until everything that needed to be done was done, everyone could only grit their teeth and persevere.

To be honest, Ares didn't want to deal with the Minister of Magic.

Because you need to be very careful in your attitude and stance toward politicians. Being too close or too distant will bring you endless troubles.

Ares noticed Hermione Granger next door giving him a strange look.

This is not surprising, because she had just seen herself looking full of energy, but after the door to the ward was knocked on, she quickly crawled into bed and lay down, barely breathing.

"Please come in—"

Ares said.

"It's horrifying... horrifying... a miracle that none of the young wizards died... the Hogwarts Express is out of control... I've never heard of anything like it... My God, you have no idea how terrified I was when I heard the news, Ares. It was Merlin who protected us all. I mean, thank goodness you were on that damned train!"

Cornelius Fudge had barely settled into his position as Minister of Magic when his incompetence was already widely acknowledged within the British magical community.

Ares declined to comment on those who lacked the ability to do so.

However, in terms of the qualities of a political figure, Connelly Fudge was undoubtedly very qualified.

In the public ward, Fudge acted like Dumbledore's sidekick.

But as soon as Fudge entered the ward, he immediately left Dumbledore behind.

Without even glancing at Hermione Granger, who had been silently preparing for a long time, pondering how to respond to the minister and principal's greetings, he strode over to Ares's bedside, beaming with joy and saying...

It was as if the incident of him breaking Ares' wand with his own hands had never happened, and the two were close old friends.

"Ahem—thank you for your compliment, Minister."

"The Order of Merlin, First Class, if I could get it!"

"Uh, I wonder if Dumbledore has—"

"Oh yes, Dumbledore said he thought that giving us gold as thanks to our savior would be just about right—"

Fudge said righteously,

"But I told him no, Ares."

What will the public say about me? What will they say about the Ministry of Magic if I just try to fool them with some gold?

"actually-"

"Oh, you look badly injured, Ares?"

"I'll inevitably have to stay in bed for a few days."

"Do you need to go to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Sicknesses, Ares? I can arrange it for you right away—oh, of course, it's not that I don't trust the Hogwarts school doctors—it's just that St. Mungo's are more professional."

Fudge looked at Ares expectantly.

"Do you need a private room and private care? None of that is a problem. Stay as long as you want!"

Standing silently to the side, Dumbledore, relegated to a 'supporting role,' wanted to say something, but couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"Thank you very much, Minister, cough—"

Ares said,

"It's not worth wasting precious medical resources on me."

"Do you see that, Dumbledore? That's true nobility!"

Fudge spoke with full approval, but his eyes, as he looked at Ares, betrayed his true thoughts.

"Are you sure you don't need that? Your contributions deserve the best treatment... The Ministry of Magic and I both need you to recover from your injuries as soon as possible. We still have a tough challenge to face together!"

"Feel sorry?"

"Interview with Ares!"

Fudge's smile faded considerably; the true intentions were now revealed.

"We're going to do a feature interview with The Daily Prophet together, aren't we? People definitely want to hear you tell them firsthand how the train stopped, right? And if you could also say a few words of justice for the ministry—cough, I mean, for the ministry?"

This was expected.

"Oh, actually, the train was able to stop mainly thanks to the Hogwarts Express's emergency braking magic and the united efforts of the young wizards. I didn't do anything—"

Ares gasped for breath as he spoke.

"How could I possibly do an interview with you, Minister? I would steal your thunder."

A hint of displeasure flashed across Fudge's chubby face; he clearly sensed that Ares didn't want to do public relations for the Ministry of Magic.

He shifted slightly to avoid Dumbledore's gaze, then secretly winked at Ares.

"Just a few words? In that case... cough, your Order of Merlin, First Class, is much more secure."

"Connelly!"

Dumbledore suddenly spoke, his expression serious.

"The public has the right to know the truth, no matter how bad the truth may be."

"You make it sound so easy, Dumbledore—"

Dumbledore's rebuke clearly embarrassed Fudge, who fiddled with his two short, carrot-like thumbs and said defiantly,

"But the problem is, who can really say for sure what the truth is... Sigh, you know, the public is so easily swayed!"

"At the very least, we must be honest with the public and tell them that the Ministry of Magic is conducting a thorough investigation, and ask them to remain calm—"

Dumbledore said,

"I warned you, Connelly, that playing power games is a very dangerous thing."

"You yourself said you don't think it's a problem with the Hogwarts Express, right?"

In such a situation, Dumbledore's insistence would only make Fudge more stubborn.

"I just want Ares to tell the public your point of view... Oh, in this matter, I think people would rather hear Ares's voice."

Fudge said this, and then he ignored Dumbledore and looked kindly at Ares.

"Okay, Ares, just say a few words to people in front of the camera—"

Fudge patiently guided him.

"You can make your demands, Ares. I mean, besides the Order of Merlin, First Class, if... uh, do you have any other requests?"

Dumbledore's aged face suddenly turned cold, and he stared silently at the back of Fudge's head.

In the end, he didn't say anything more, only sighed silently in his heart, his eyes revealing helplessness.

"Ahem, my request—"

Ares saw both Dumbledore's changing expression and Fudge's self-righteousness, and he knew very well what they might have been talking about behind the scenes.

In complete silence—

Ares pursed his lips.

"If possible, I'd like—uh, could we eat as soon as possible?"

Under Fudge's increasingly indifferent gaze, Ares looked at Dumbledore, whose breathing had relaxed, and smiled.

"I'm not complaining, Professor Dumbledore, but even with all the unfortunate events of today, everyone still needs to eat, right?"

"Ah, thank you for reminding me, Ares—"

Dumbledore's silvery-white beard shimmered and flowed in the moonlight.

"That's right, what could be more important than filling your stomach—but I forgot that, generally speaking, the banquet is after the Sorting Ceremony—"

"Then I think Minister Fouché will certainly be willing to personally preside over the branch ceremony."

Ares smiled and looked at Fudge.

"What?"

Fudge jerked his cheek, his expression momentarily blank.

"Me, presiding over the Sorting Ceremony?"

"Isn't this incredibly meaningful?"

As Fudge's gaze gradually brightened, Ares spoke softly.

"After such a catastrophic accident, the Minister of Magic personally presided over the already significant Sorting Ceremony, essentially lifting them up onto their extraordinary wizarding path... telling the young wizards that the Ministry of Magic would seek justice for them—people will surely be moved by this!"