Kasenhis sat in the corner of the office on the couch, bored, picking at the skin around his fingernails.
He absentmindedly did that while half-listening, and only when the Veritaserum finally wore off did he lift his eyelids.
"So… are we done here? Can we all go home now?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "We still need to return Sirius his rightful honor and clear his name."
"That's Cornelius Fudge's business then..." Kasenhis muttered, then noticed Dumbledore staring at him.
"Wait… you're not suggesting I go find Fudge, are you? What if he's hiding an Avada Bomb in his office to assassinate me?"
"He doesn't have the guts," Snape replied bluntly.
"Still not safe. I think it's better if we do this on our turf. Bring Fudge here," Kasenhis suggested.
"That's doable… if you're really that worried about Fudge setting up ambushes in his own office," Dumbledore nodded. Then he turned to Snape, "Severus?"
"I've got a potion simmering in my cauldron," Snape declined without missing a beat.
Dumbledore glanced toward Sirius—only to see the man blatantly looking the other way, pretending not to notice. With a helpless sigh, Dumbledore realized this was the problem with Christmas—half the people were on vacation, and the other half were pretending to be.
In the end, Dumbledore had no choice but to handle it himself. And to avoid scaring Fudge's delicate little nerves, he even politely scheduled an appointment in advance.
"I've never seen you be this polite before," Kasenhis commented dryly.
"I used to be quite the gentleman," Dumbledore replied, pulling out a blank piece of parchment from his drawer and starting to write with a quill.
The atmosphere in the office was… strange. Kasenhis sat on the couch, while Dumbledore and Snape occupied the two armchairs.
Three-fourths of the Gryffindor quartet were currently stuffing their heads inside a cabinet, trying to disappear. Peter Pettigrew was sprawled out on the carpet like a dead rat—well, except his chest was still rising and falling.
Sirius stood there awkwardly, all alone, unable to find anywhere to sit. After all, compared to Kasenhis' spacious alchemy office, this one was far too cramped.
Before long, the trio of kids finally pulled their heads out of the Pensieve. Kasenhis glanced at Snape, then at Dumbledore.
Yeah, he hated these kinds of overly sentimental scenes.
Luckily, Snape seemed to share the exact same sentiment. The two of them silently stood up and slipped out of the headmaster's office without saying a word.
"How long do you think it'll take them to finish crying?" Kasenhis asked, sitting on the steps outside.
"No idea," Snape shook his head.
If Kasenhis disliked watching these emotional scenes because he was secretly too soft-hearted and easily affected...
Then Snape's reason was pure instinctive rejection—call it bitterness or envy.
Like a bat that hates the sunlight.
"I'm heading back to finish brewing my potion," Snape muttered before heading down the staircase.
Kasenhis sat there helplessly… for a long, long, long time.
He wasn't sure when Fudge would show up, but once he did, at least Kasenhis could help by giving the man a good scare. Honestly, Dumbledore was just too proper sometimes.
Take the whole Karkaroff situation, for example.
Dumbledore insisted on waiting until Karkaroff physically stepped foot on Hogwarts grounds before taking action—instead of, say, casually dropping a curse on him from miles away and calling it a day.
Then again, maybe not.
Kasenhis had long learned not to assume anyone was a fool, especially not someone like Dumbledore. Perhaps this whole "respect for the rules" thing was just part of the persona Dumbledore intentionally constructed for himself.
It wasn't long—barely by the time Kasenhis finished anxiously picking at the ninth fingernail—that he saw a gasping figure huffing its way up the staircase, followed by a large entourage.
Kasenhis stood, brushed himself off, and walked back into Dumbledore's office.
By this point, Sirius and Harry were sitting together with such a picture of father-son harmony that anyone walking in might think they were actual family.
"Fudge and company are here," Kasenhis announced.
"Out in the hallway?" Dumbledore asked.
"I half expected you to drag him in yourself," Dumbledore chuckled, rising from his chair and heading to the door. Slowly, he pulled it open.
"It's been a while," he greeted warmly.
Although Kasenhis had once cut off Fudge's arm, and Dumbledore had chosen to stand firmly behind Kasenhis back then, effectively marking the point of no return between Fudge and Dumbledore, the lines between them were already drawn. Their positions had long since diverged.
However, Fudge had also come to understand one very critical thing: this was the wizarding world, where individual power could absolutely surpass the strength of institutions. Look at Dumbledore. Look at Grindelwald. Look at the Dark Lord. Look at that blasted Kasenhis.
He had once believed Dumbledore was nothing more than an overrated old fool, but reality had humbled him—quite painfully so.
Still, Fudge had one undeniable strength: as a seasoned politician, he could effortlessly discard things like pride, dignity, and even his own sense of self.
Just like now, with arms outstretched—well, one was an alchemically crafted prosthetic—he flashed a brilliant smile and declared, "Albus! Long time no see!"
Dumbledore offered a subtle smile in response.
This was, indeed, where Fudge surpassed most other politicians—he was utterly shameless. He had no bottom line. If you proved yourself above him, he would drop everything else to fully embrace the will of the more powerful party.
Just as he was doing now.
"I believe I explained it in the letter already," Dumbledore said kindly, leading Fudge into the office. The moment Fudge stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of Sirius Black sprawled comfortably on the sofa… and another man lying on the floor, looking suspiciously like Peter Pettigrew.
"In truth, I only told you half in my letter. Yes, we did find Sirius Black," Dumbledore smiled, "but we also found Peter Pettigrew—and the long-buried truth along with him."
"Could you… elaborate a little?" Fudge asked, confused.
"Perhaps it would be best if you simply viewed their memories yourself," Dumbledore suggested gently.
"Hmm, Veritaserum works too," Sirius said calmly.
"Before that… I need to know… is he truly Peter Pettigrew?" Fudge asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Obviously," Dumbledore replied. "But it's not my place to tell you. You can ask for yourself." He pointed to the Pensieve nearby, then pulled two vials of Veritaserum from his pocket and handed them to Fudge. "You may choose which method you prefer."
Fudge thought for a moment, then passed one vial to the relatively calm and lucid Sirius. Without hesitation, Sirius uncorked it and downed it in one gulp.
"Then let me ask you…"
Kasenhis remained sitting comfortably on the sofa, watching alongside Harry and the others as Fudge began bombarding Sirius with question after question, followed by another exhaustive round of questioning aimed at Pettigrew.
By the time it ended, Fudge had gathered all the answers he needed.
He turned stiffly toward Dumbledore and said, "This… this isn't just a matter of right and wrong. This is… a political problem." Thıs text ıs hosted at 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩⚫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢⚫𝔫𝔢𝔱
"So what?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
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