Combined challenge response: Trust and being gullible
"Ah, Lucius." Fudge had tossed his quill to the side and was on his feet and around the desk before I had taken three full steps inside his office. "Come in, come in. Do sit down."
"Fudge," I said, nodding a greeting. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and steered me into the chair opposite his desk, and I wondered if he could feel the knot of tension in the muscles beneath his fingers. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Lucius," he said as I sat, planting the tip of my cane on the floor beside my chair. "Would you like some tea?"
I shook my head and kept my silence as he crossed the room to the tea service, tapping his wand against the silver teapot until steam gushed from the spout. His hands shook as he poured himself a cup, overfilling it until it splashed into the saucer.
"I need your advice, Lucius," he said, returning to his desk after fumbling with the sugar bowl. This, I knew from past experience, meant Tell me what to do, Lucius in Fudge-speak, and I allowed myself to relax, just a bit. Perhaps this would be easier than I thought.
Fudge blew a tendril of stem from the surface of his tea and took a cautious sip. "You've heard the rumors, I assume?" he asked, wincing. The fool always made the water too hot to bear.
"What rumors are those?" I asked blandly.
His hands were shaking so badly now more tea slopped out of the cup. A puddle formed on the parchment below, smearing the ink, and Fudge set the cup down and pushed it aside. "The rumors that -- " his voice dropped to a whisper "-- You Know Who is back."
Damage control, Lucius, the Dark Lord had said before I'd apparated from the graveyard. We cannot afford to let anything stand in our way. You must use your influence at the Ministry.
I allowed my eyes to widen in surprise. "What's that you say?"
Fudge leaned forward over his desk, heedless of the inky brown stain spreading rapidly over the sleeve of his robes as he brushed against the tainted parchment. "You. Know. Who. They say he's back again."
I gave a well-rehearsed scoff. "Back?" I replied, letting just a touch of amusement edge its way into my tone. "From the dead?"
"That's just it, Lucius." The color had all but drained from Fudge's cheeks. "They claim he isn't dead, and never was! Dumbledore's been saying it for years, and now Potter --"
I waved the rest of his sentence away. "Those are your sources? Dumbledore? And Potter?" I gave him a condescending tsk, shaking my head. "Surely you have better things to do with your afternoon, Fudge. You might have frightened me out of my wits."
"But Dumbledore said --"
"Dumbledore is a fool. And he's been playing you for a fool for years." I got to my feet and loomed over Fudge's desk, gratification surging through me as he leaned back in his chair, as far away from me as he could get. "This is obviously nothing more than another attempt to discredit you." Uncertainty crept across Fudge's face, and I pressed my advantage. "He is running that school into the ground, Fudge, and that ultimately reflects badly on you. First he hires that brainless imbecile, Lockhart. Then that oversized oaf, Hagrid. Then the werewolf." I could not hold back a nasty sneer. "And then Moody." I began to pace, and whacked the edge of Fudge's desk with my cane, my agitation no longer feigned. "You heard what that madman did to my son, I assume?"
"That wasn't Alastor Moody, Lucius," Fudge said quietly. "It was Barty Crouch's son."
I stopped short and turned slowly to face him. "Crouch?" My mouth went dry. So that was the "loyal Death Eater" the Dark Lord had sent to Hogwarts. "How -- how did he escape from Azkaban?"
Fudge sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "I've no idea."
I looked away, my mind racing. "Where is he now?" I had to find a way to make sure he was silenced. He knew far too much to be trusted in the Ministry's care.
"At St Mungo's, I presume. I had him Kissed."
My heart started to pound, and I struggled to contain a chortle of glee. With Crouch out of the way, my own position in the Inner Circle was assured. "I see," I managed. "Useful things after all, those dementors, eh?"
"Dumbledore wants me to remove them from Azkaban." I sputtered in mock outrage, but before I could form a coherent retort, Fudge continued. "And, he wants me to send envoys to the giants."
I schooled my features into a stern glare, making a mental note to take this information to the Dark Lord as quickly as possible. "Now see here, Fudge. This is beyond ridiculous. What evidence does Dumbledore have to back up this... preposterous story?"
"Just Potter's word, as far as I know."
Potter. My fist clenched around the head of my cane. The taste of fear and anger after he'd escaped the graveyard was still bitter on my tongue. "Well, that settles it, doesn't it," I said, teeth clenched. "Potter is obviously mad. We've suspected it for years, and this proves it."
Fudge's face twisted with misery. "But Dumbledore seemed so certain." By God. The man was as spineless as they came.
"Fudge. Enough." I cut an impatient slash in the air with the side of my hand. "You've given Dumbledore far too much slack over the years, and now he's trying to hang you with it. He's expecting you to be gullible enough to swallow this tall tale, and then -- mark my words -- he will use the uproar you create to remove you from this office. You owe it to yourself -- to all of us -- to stand firm."
"That's what I told him," Fudge said, his lips narrowing into a hard frown. "And he vowed to fight me."
"Then let him try. And when the whole thing is exposed as a sham, Dumbledore will be the one to pay the price, not you."
Fudge hesitated, and for a moment I feared the façade would crumble. "Then you've heard nothing about this, Lucius?" His voice was tinged with desperation. "Nothing at all? You're sure?"
"Listen to me, Cornelius. If You Know Who had returned, I would be in great danger. I exposed him as the one who put me under the Imperius Curse all those years ago. Surely his re-formed followers would want to punish me for that. And yet..." I spread my hands and glanced around the office. "Do I look concerned?"
He studied me for a long moment, and I prayed the hope bubbling in my chest was not shining in my eyes. "No," he said at last, and his face broke into a wide, relieved grin. "No, you don't. Very well, Lucius. Thank you for your advice."
I smiled coldly. "Not at all. My pleasure, Cornelius."
"And you're right. It's time I started keeping a tighter rein on Dumbledore, as well."
My smile grew wider. "I should be happy to advise you on that, too, if I can."
"Yes, yes, of course. Are you in a hurry? Or can we discuss the matter now?"
"I have no plans for the afternoon," I replied, settling myself back down in my chair.
"Excellent," he said, rounding the desk once again. "Are you sure I can't talk you into a cup of tea after all?"