Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

do?’
    ‘It’s very kind of you, Prime Minister, but there is nothing. I was sent here tonight to bring you up-to-date on recent events and to introduce you to my successor. I rather thought he’d be here by now, but of course he’s very busy at the moment, with so much going on.’
    Fudge looked round at the portrait of the ugly little man wearing the long curly silver wig, who was digging in his ear with the point of a quill.
    Catching Fudge’s eye the portrait said, ‘He’ll be here in a moment, he’s just finishing a letter to Dumbledore.’
    ‘I wish him luck,’ said Fudge, sounding bitter for the first time. ‘I’ve been writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past fortnight, but he won’t budge. If he’d just been prepared to persuade the boy, I might still be … well, maybe Scrimgeour will have more success.’
    Fudge subsided into what was clearly an aggrieved silence, but it was broken almost immediately by the portrait, which suddenly spoke in its crisp, official voice.
    ‘To the Prime Minister of Muggles. Requesting a meeting. Urgent. Kindly respond immediately. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister for Magic.’
    ‘Yes, yes, fine,’ said the Prime Minister distractedly, and he barely flinched as the flames in the grate turned emerald-green again, rose up and revealed a second spinning wizard in their heart, disgorging him moments later on to the antique rug. Fudge got to his feet, and after a moment’s hesitation the Prime Minister did the same, watching the new arrival straighten up, dust down his long black robes and look around.
    The Prime Minister’s first, foolish thought was that Rufus Scrimgeour looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of grey in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of shrewdness and toughness; the Prime Minister thought he understood why the wizarding community preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in these dangerous times.
    ‘How do you do?’ said the Prime Minister politely, holding out his hand.
    Scrimgeour grasped it briefly, his eyes scanning the room, then pulled out a wand from under his robes.
    ‘Fudge told you everything?’ he asked, striding over to the door and tapping the keyhole with his wand. The Prime Minister heard the lock click.
    ‘Er – yes,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’d rather that door remained unlocked.’
    ‘I’d rather not be interrupted,’ said Scrimgeour shortly, ‘or watched,’ he added, pointing his wand at the windows so that the curtains swept across them. ‘Right, well, I’m a busy man, so let’s get down to business. First of all, we need to discuss your security.’
    The Prime Minister drew himself up to his fullest height and replied, ‘I am perfectly happy with the security I’ve already got, thank you very –’
    ‘Well, we’re not,’ Scrimgeour cut in. ‘It’ll be a poor lookout for the Muggles if their Prime Minister gets put under the Imperius Curse. The new secretary in your outer office –’
    ‘I’m not getting rid of Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s what you’re suggesting!’ said the Prime Minister hotly. ‘He’s highly efficient, gets through twice the work the rest of them –’
    ‘That’s because he’s a wizard,’ said Scrimgeour, without a flicker of a smile. ‘A highly trained Auror, who has been assigned to you for your protection.’
    ‘Now, wait a moment!’ declared the Prime Minister. ‘You can’t just put your people into my office, I decide who works for me –’
    ‘I thought you were happy with Shacklebolt?’ said Scrimgeour coldly.
    ‘I am – that’s to say, I was –’
    ‘Then there’s no problem, is there?’ said Scrimgeour.
    ‘I … well, as long as Shacklebolt’s work continues to be … er … excellent,’ said the Prime Minister lamely, but Scrimgeour barely seemed to hear him.
    ‘Now, about Herbert Chorley – your Junior Minister,’ he continued. ‘The one who has been entertaining the public by impersonating a duck.’
    ‘What about him?’ asked the Prime Minister.
    ‘He has clearly reacted to a poorly performed Imperius Curse,’ said Scrimgeour. ‘It’s addled his brains, but he could still be dangerous.’
    ‘He’s only quacking!’ said the Prime Minister weakly. ‘Surely a bit of a rest … maybe go easy on