Fudge had been the Minister for Magic for many years, but he had yet to truly secure his position.
Though the Ministry seemed calm on the surface, it was riddled with internal factions.
In truth, had he not claimed credit for the Sirius Black case—and had Barty Crouch not been disgraced—the position of Minister might never have fallen to him.
In the eyes of many, his ascension was purely a matter of luck.
How could his old rivals ever be satisfied with that?
Over the years, they had constantly tried to undermine him, both openly and in secret.
If they ever learned that his greatest political asset, the Sirius Black case, was actually a miscarriage of justice, his position would become even more precarious.
This was why he was willing to stop at nothing to prevent Sirius from being exonerated.
But now...
The initiative was no longer in his hands.
In fact, even if the Sirius scandal broke, Fudge still had a slim hope of remaining Minister.
He had, after all, held the seat for many years...
However... if the scandal broke and Victor Wick used his immense financial clout to back his opponents... the consequences would be unthinkable.
Moreover, since Victor could quietly gather files on other officials, who was to say he hadn't uncovered Fudge's own sordid secrets?
"I wonder... Minister, what is your decision?" Victor waited calmly, a gentle smile on his face.
"You... you're threatening me?" Fudge leaned forward, his hands trembling and his eyes filled with resentment.
"Yes. I am indeed threatening you," Victor said, clapping his hands together with disarming honesty.
He held all the cards now; why bother acting?
Fudge stared fixedly at Victor for a long moment before collapsing back into his chair, his face pale and defeated.
Having been Minister for so long, he knew that even if Victor helped him stabilize his position afterward, he would no longer be his own master.
If Victor could threaten him once, he could do it again. One day, when Victor tired of threats, he could simply kick Fudge out of the seat and take it himself.
Victor Wick would become a sword forever hanging over his head.
"Fine... I agree..."
Drinking poison to quench one's thirst leads to death eventually, but he didn't want to die of thirst right now.
Victor nodded, showing no surprise.
Naturally, he didn't offer any nonsense about not interfering with Fudge's business once the deal was done.
Not even a troll would believe such a lie; how could Fudge?
"Is it settled?"
Outside the Ministry.
Dumbledore had not left; he had been waiting for Victor for a long time.
"It's settled. Minister Fudge was very cooperative. The Investigation Committee is working overtime tonight. At the latest, the conviction will be overturned by tomorrow," Victor said, tucking his hands into his sleeves and looking up at the falling snow.
Dumbledore sighed softly. "It is good that it is settled..."
"You don't trust me, Professor." Victor looked at Dumbledore with a meaningful gaze.
"I merely do not trust the Ministry... If your talk had failed, I could have intervened quickly to help you get away," Dumbledore explained, a flicker of worry passing through his eyes.
Victor knew exactly what the old man was worried about.
Rules are things you don't notice when you follow them.
But... if one day you realize you have the power to break those rules—or even stand above them—your mindset inevitably undergoes a strange transformation.
In the past, Victor had been too weak for such things.
Only now did he finally experience this wonderful sensation. It was a first, and it felt undeniably good.
Dumbledore feared Victor would drown in that feeling, that his heart would slowly corrupt until he became the third powerful wizard to lose himself to it.
In modern magical history, the first powerful wizard to fall for that sensation was Gellert Grindelwald, and the second was Tom Riddle.
And now, Victor was the third.
Victor could guess Dumbledore's concerns with his eyes closed.
"Don't overthink it, Professor... I'm just using their own methods against them. It doesn't mean I'll become one of them."
Dumbledore gave a wry smile and shook his head. "Victor... naturally, I believe you. I have always known you are not one to break rules for the sake of it. In fact, what I wish to tell you is that rules are necessary; otherwise, the world falls into chaos... and a chaotic world is a terrifying thing."
Dumbledore was trying to remind him of the necessity of order to keep him from drifting too far.
"I know that. That's why I've always adhered to the principle of not being the first to break the rules. But if the other side refuses to play fair, they can't blame me for following suit," Victor said calmly.
Dumbledore opened his mouth but hesitated.
"Professor, power is just power. It has nothing to do with good or evil; it depends on how you use it. There are many who know the Dark Arts, but not everyone becomes a Dark Wizard—just like the Aurors who used them against the Death Eaters. And many break rules for their own gain, but not everyone becomes a loathed Dark Lord."
"Furthermore... for wizards at our level, do you truly believe rules can still constrain us, Professor Dumb—"
"—ledore? The only thing that can restrain our actions now is our own moral compass."
Victor's words were blunt, but he knew that when dealing with someone like Dumbledore, the best way to avoid a rift was sincerity and transparency. They preferred this kind of communication.
"A moral compass?" The worry in Dumbledore's expression faded significantly. "If that is the case... then I am relieved. I know what kind of person you are better than anyone..."
Of course, Dumbledore's inner unease didn't vanish entirely.
However, this lingering worry wasn't directed at Victor, but at the Ministry and everyone else...
A person's character can change due to their environment.
So, he worried about the future... what if the thing that eventually changed Victor's heart was the very 'environment' Dumbledore worked so hard to maintain?
Aside from those with blind ambition, who is born wanting to rebel?
Azkaban.
Sirius sat in the corner, quietly looking at the photo of Harry by the faint moonlight streaming through the window.
Victor had not lied to him; the Dementors had indeed stopped appearing, which had greatly improved his mental state.
From the cell next door, a faint sobbing could be heard...
It was Peter Pettigrew.
When he regained consciousness and found himself in Azkaban, he had nearly collapsed.
Later... when he realized Sirius was in the cell next to him and was subjected to hours of Sirius's vitriol, he broke down into tears.
*Clang! Clang!*
"Ah!"
Peter Pettigrew's sobbing turned into a scream.
Sirius knew the Dementors had come to feed.
A moment later, Peter couldn't even manage a sob.
After an unknown amount of time.
*Creak!*
The door to Sirius's cell opened.
It was Victor again, and once more, he had used a key to open the door.
"Let's go. Unless you're not tired of Azkaban yet and want to stay another week or two..."
"I'm done. Get me out of here," Sirius interrupted.
Victor stepped aside, revealing the doorway to freedom.
Sirius clutched the photo tightly and stepped out of the cell, one pace at a time.
With a flick of Victor's wand, the shackles around Sirius's ankles snapped open and fell to the floor.
Sirius walked out. Even though he was still in Azkaban and the environment remained grim and terrifying, he felt the air here was much fresher than inside that cell! Perhaps it was his change in mindset?
"I remember you promised me something..."
Victor pointed to the cell next door. "Go ahead. I already had the Dementors help him warm up."
Sirius clenched his fists and walked quickly to the cell door.
Through the bars, he saw the beast he had hated for over a decade.
"Wormtail, how does this feel? I endured this for over ten years..."
Sirius's tone was calm, but to Peter Pettigrew inside the cell, it sounded like the whisper of a demon.
"Ah!"
Peter jumped up, backing away until his back hit the wall. "You... how did you get out? What... what are you doing?"
Victor tossed a key to Sirius.
"Do whatever you want. When you're done, come find me. I'll be in the Warden's office."
With that, Victor turned and left. Soon, the sound of Peter Pettigrew's pleas and wails echoed behind him.
The Warden's office.
The Warden of Azkaban happened to be out again today.
Only, during his convenient absence, the release form for Sirius Black had already been stamped and placed on the desk.
All it needed was Sirius's signature or a thumbprint, and he could walk free.
After an unknown amount of time.
Sirius appeared in the Warden's office.
His hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in blood, looking as if he had just returned from a scene of absolute carnage.
"Sign it or leave a print, and you're free to go."
Sirius said nothing, but suddenly slammed his blood-stained palm onto the document!
A crimson handprint appeared in the space for the signature.
A flash of red light passed, and the document became official.
Sirius pulled out a chair and sat down weakly.
After his hatred and rage had been fully purged, a sense of exhaustion left him feeling dizzy.
"You went through all this trouble to get me out... besides Harry, what else was it for?"
"I just want a clear conscience and peace of mind," Victor replied simply and firmly.
Sirius looked at Victor for a long time before saying weakly, "You really are an odd one..."
"Of course, if you want to show some gratitude and do me a small favor, I'd feel even better."
"I knew it..."
"It's about your brother, Regulus Black..."
Sirius stood up abruptly. "Him... wasn't he killed by Voldemort?"
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