[161] The Watcher in the Walls

The moment Hall touched the ground, Narcissa Malfoy — pale-faced, abandoning all composure — rushed forward and embraced Draco tightly.

"Dragon," she breathed.

Draco shot a furtive glance at Hall, a blush creeping onto his face. "Mum..."

He started to complain. Then he felt Narcissa's tight embrace, her trembling hands. She was terrified.

Draco fell silent and hugged her back.

Narcissa recovered quickly. Her child was unharmed. She looked at Hall, standing nearby, and she knew — Draco's safe return, instead of a violent fall born of terror, was entirely thanks to him.

If Narcissa had been friendly to Hall before, it was only because of his partnership with Lucius, and because Draco considered him a friend. From this moment on, she was sincerely grateful. Hall had saved Draco from irreparable trauma.

"Draco. Cissy." Lucius Malfoy strode towards them. He checked his wife and child, then looked up at the Dementors — a dark mass blotting out the sky above Malfoy Manor.

"Expecto Patronum."

A giant silver serpent materialised, forked tongue flicking, standing guard before his family.

"Thanks to you today, Mr Weasley." Lucius's expression was grave, but his tone was sincere.

Hall waved. "Draco's my friend. It's what I should do."

Lucius nodded. Some things didn't need to be said aloud. He and Hall still had a partnership. Lucius knew what to do next.

What he needed to face now — "Cornelius Fudge!"

The Dementors' presence here had to have been authorised by the Minister for Magic. Otherwise they couldn't have left Azkaban.

Guests gathered, each releasing their Patronuses, whispering accusations against Fudge.

Hall stroked his chin.

Hall found the situation strange.

Cornelius Fudge had power, sure — but not as much as people thought. He'd always coveted Hogwarts, but Dumbledore blocked him at every turn. There were wealthy pure-blood families he didn't dare offend, because they could make trouble he couldn't handle. And the Malfoys were the wealthiest and most prominent of them all.

Unless Fudge had lost his mind, he'd never send Dementors to Malfoy Manor.

But he had. So there had to be another reason.

Lucius Malfoy clearly thought the same. His gaze was heavy, his face ashen, watching the Dementors circle above.

"Cissy, see the other guests out first."

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Narcissa hugged Draco tightly, then released him, tidied her hair and dress, and resumed her aristocratic composure.

The guests heading for their carriages stopped — the Dementors were moving again.

"Has Fudge gone mad?!"

"Merlin's beard — is the Ministry doomed?!"

"What is he trying to do?!"

Lucius, who'd planned to handle this quietly, could no longer sit back. "Cornelius Fudge!" He grit his teeth. "Guests, please be patient. Let's see what the Minister wants."

They returned to the manor, waiting.

Half an hour later, Cornelius Fudge finally knocked on the door.

He'd expected to see only Lucius Malfoy. He hadn't expected almost every pure-blood wizard in England to be there.

The moment he saw the crowd, his heart nearly stopped.

He'd caused a major incident.

Fudge took a deep breath and strode forward. "Mr Malfoy, today's events — there's a reason!"

Lucius had calmed down. Anger was useless — it clouded judgment. He'd already started planning how to extract maximum benefit from this.

"Minister Fudge, today's events can't be explained with a few words." Lucius gripped his serpent-headed cane, thumb tracing the coiled body. The cane struck the floor with a dull thud.

Fudge flinched. He looked up and met the hostile gazes of every pure-blood in the room. If he couldn't give a convincing explanation, his position would be filled by the end of the week.

"I..." Fudge's voice trembled. "Azkaban. The followers of You-Know-Who — ten of them — escaped today."

Silence.

Everyone seemed to hear a thunderclap.

Ten people. From Azkaban.

Guests trembled. Someone let out a small scream. Lucius glanced back — the offender covered their mouth. He turned around, silver-grey eyes fixed on Fudge.

"Minister Fudge, that doesn't explain the Dementors outside my manor."

"A large-scale prison break," Lucius said, brushing past the term "Death Eaters." "Isn't that the Ministry's mismanagement? Malfoy Manor was hosting guests tonight. These Dementors have caused considerable trouble."

Fudge hesitated.

Hall chuckled softly and stepped forward. "Minister Fudge, are you suspecting Mr Malfoy? That he organised this escape?"

Fudge had indeed thought that. But he couldn't say it. He looked at the speaker — red hair. A Weasley. At Malfoy Manor. His mind raced.

"This..." Fudge hesitated. "Mr Weasley Jr."

Neither Hall nor Lucius denied the address.

"After all," Fudge pressed, "among the ten who escaped — one was named Bellatrix Lestrange."

At the name, Lucius's grip on his cane tightened. Narcissa pursed her lips.

Hall noticed. The cup. Bellatrix Lestrange had escaped — she'd eventually discover the Hufflepuff Cup was missing from her vault. Suspicion would fall on Narcissa. She was Bellatrix's cousin. And given Bellatrix's twisted loyalty to the Dark Lord, Hall could easily imagine what she'd do.

Fortunately, she hadn't discovered it yet. Narcissa wasn't about to volunteer anything.

"Because of her identity," Fudge said, his gaze sweeping over Lucius and Narcissa, "the Ministry has to consider..." He turned to Hall. "Mr Weasley, do you think that's reasonable?"

Fudge couldn't believe a Weasley was close with a Malfoy. This might be his breakthrough.

"I don't think so," Hall said.

Fudge blinked.

Hall smiled. "Just because Bellatrix is Mr Malfoy's relative, that's grounds for suspicion? Is that how the Ministry handles cases? What other evidence do you have?"

Fudge had nothing.

Hall gave him a knowing look. "No wonder the Daily Prophet published that... unscientific article." He looked at Fudge with barely concealed contempt. "Like father, like son?"

Lucius's stern lips curved into a smile. "Mr Weasley is right." He stepped forward, backing Hall openly. "Minister Fudge, produce your evidence."

Fudge's face went ashen. He had nothing. If he couldn't find a scapegoat for the Azkaban breakout, his political career was over. The Dementor siege had been a desperate gamble, and it had failed.

"I'm so sorry, Mr Malfoy..." The apology sounded forced between his teeth.

Lucius wasn't satisfied. So close. His little Dragon had almost been hurt. He breathed slowly, calming himself. He wasn't ready to break ties with the Ministry yet.

"Very well." Lucius nodded. "However, the Ministry's press releases won't contain any accusations or insinuations against the Malfoy family. You agree, Minister Fudge?"

Fudge's smile froze. "Of course, Mr Malfoy."

He left with his Dementors.