Regnark stared at him fiercely with his eyes wide open.

This kind of nonsense again!

It was clearly written in the newspaper that Malfoy Manor was demolished and burned to ashes after being driven into hiding by Potter and Dumbledore.

It has come to this point, and you still say it is expected?

"We have been preparing for a year!" Ragnak gritted his teeth, "One year!"

"If Potter knew we were doing this..."

"Human wizard, I..."

Crouch interrupted it and said, "How are the preparations going now? Tell me the details."

"I have been doing what you said!" Ragnak was furious. "I have contacted not only the fairies in Great Britain, but also all of Europe, and even some fairies in Egypt and Greece. Now we have more than 500 like-minded partners!"

"but!"

"But human wizard, the supplies you promised have not arrived!"

"We can only ensure that every goblin has a weapon, but only one hundred goblins can wear armor."

In war, weapons are relatively unimportant.

There is not much difference between a sharp sword, a pitchfork in the hands of a farmer, and a stone picked up from the ground. Killing an enemy - chopping off the head with a sword, piercing the belly with a pitchfork, and smashing the brain with a stone, the result is the same.

Armor is the most important thing.

In war, only by surviving can you kill more enemies and win victory.

Regnarc had experience with this.

Many of his failures were due to his lack of armor when fighting against the goblins.

Crouch's face was calm. "I know. I'm still preparing. The werewolves are a little bit disobedient, so the transportation of supplies is a problem."

"But rest assured, everything you want will be given to you before this winter."

Ragnak clenched his fists and said, "This winter, I will trust you for the last time."

The light flickered on the two-sided mirror, and Crouch's shadow disappeared. Ragnak took a deep breath, turned and walked to the busy workshop area, picked up the hammer and continued swinging it - unlike humans, the leaders of the goblins often have to bear more responsibilities and work, and often have higher technical requirements.

The goblins were clanking and chattering, but in a secret place, their sounds could not be heard.

Great Britain seemed to be at peace again.

A new day.

In the Auror's office, Scrimgeour had a headache. Last night he wrote a letter to tell Dumbledore and Potter about his situation.

Dumbledore was a very gentle man. He wrote a long letter with sincere words to comfort him - but it was only comfort. Dumbledore said that he would not express any opinions on the internal affairs of the Ministry of Magic, let alone make any comments.

Mr. Porter...

No reply at all.

He sent the letter, and within two hours, the letter was sealed with a new layer of wax and delivered intact by Ms. Hideaway. The mature Ms. Hideaway was very angry that she had to do extra work for nothing. She stepped on Scrimgeour's head and pecked him hard, asking him to let her have a good rest and not cause trouble for herself!

She bullied Scrimgeour severely.

Now, neither of the two gentlemen has any intention of interfering with the Ministry of Magic, so everything depends on oneself.

He had just ground himself a cup of coffee.

The office door was flung open.

Tonks rushed in: "Mr. Scrimgeour, something terrible has happened."

"What's wrong?" Scrimgeour put his coffee down.

"Mr Baird Nott is dead," Tonks said briefly.

Scrimgeour was startled. "Where did he die?"

"Nott's house." Tonks said softly, "We need to go there..."

"Go!" Scrimgeour interrupted her and walked out the door quickly.

Ten minutes later, they appeared in front of the Nott's old house.

The house-elves welcomed them in.

Like most pure-blood families, the Nott family is now sparsely populated.

Baird Nott is the pillar of this family. He has another brother, but he is a fanatical Death Eater and died in Malfoy Manor not long ago.

He has no children.

But he had a nephew, his brother's child, Theodore Nott, a Slytherin who entered school in the same year as Harry Potter.

Little Nott sat on the sofa, dazed and lost in thought.

Scrimgeour ignored him and went upstairs.

Baird Knott's body was stiff, lying on the floor in the study, his face was ashen, and there were obvious colorful marks on his skin. He died of poisoning.

Under his hand, a letter was neatly pressed.

Scrimgeour waved his wand and the letter flew over, hanging in the air and slowly opening.

It is Baird Knott's suicide note.

"Are any of you familiar with Mr. Baird Knott and can confirm that this is his handwriting?" Scrimgeour asked as he read.

The Aurors shook their heads.

Pure-blood families who enter the Ministry of Magic to work, even pure-bloods like the Weasley family which are not very popular, rarely choose positions like Auror - the pay is low, the job is dangerous, and the workload is heavy, and for young wizards other than Gryffindors, it is not an ideal career.

After leaving the ideal environment of school and being whipped by reality, the Gryffindors would also try to find a way to change jobs - wouldn't it be good to be a small clerk in the Ministry of Magic? Why do they have to do such a dangerous and troublesome job?

Except for people like Scrimgeour and Moody, who are really capable and sincerely believe in the naive creed of "upholding justice", few people can last long in the position of Auror.

Or die before you can go on.

Those who are still alive have all been transferred to other positions.

Most of those who naively join the job and become Aurors are half-bloods or wizards of ordinary origin who want to stay in the wizarding world.

They only had brief interactions with pure-blood wizards at school.

Scrimgeour continued reading in silence.

The content of the suicide note somewhat overlapped with what he had expected when he was on his way here, but the essence of it was completely different.

According to the content of the letter, Mr. Baird Nott did commit suicide because he felt uneasy about what he said yesterday, but this was just the inducement. He wrote the real reason clearly in the letter - the great Dark Lord was dead, and as a loyal servant, he could not do more for his master, so he could only die with his master.

The suicide note is fake!

Scrimgeour refused to believe that Baird Notch had written this.

He came to see me yesterday, looking like he wanted to surrender himself.

So he committed suicide that night? And he still spoke of his loyalty to the Dark Lord?

Could these Death Eaters be so loyal?

He brought the suicide note back to the Ministry of Magic and compared it with the document left by Nott at his workstation. The handwriting on the document was exactly the same as Nott's, which meant that it was written by him personally.

Scrimgeour thought of something and hurried to the Minister's office with it.

He didn't knock, but pushed the door open forcefully.

"Rufus?" Thicknesse sat in a chair, reviewing documents. "My dear, what brings you here?"

"Can't wait to sit in this position?"

"Don't worry, the day after tomorrow we will..."

Scrimgeour slammed the letter down on the table. The loud noise interrupted his words: "Thickness!"

"What's wrong?" Thickness looked at him with a smile.

Scrimgeour gritted his teeth and said, "You killed Nott, didn't you?"

"Rufus, are you accusing me?" Thicknesse stood up without panicking, waving his hands. "Then where is the evidence?"

"This letter?"

He paused for a moment and said meaningfully: "I remember this is Mr. Nott's suicide note?"

"Let me see what it says."

"Oh, yes, this is his suicide note as a Death Eater expressing his final loyalty to the Dark Lord."

Scrimgeour looked at him, eyes wide.

This matter is indeed related to him!

He knew what was in the letter without even reading it.

"Don't look at me like that." Thicknesse smiled and shook his head, "My dear, future, great Minister Scrimgeour, who is supported by Mr. Potter and Mr. Dumbledore."

"Conviction requires evidence."

Scrimgeour grabbed the letter. "I'll find it."

"No, you won't." Thicknesse shook his head.

Scrimgeour was stubborn: "No, I will."

Thicknesse said decisively, "Believe me, you won't. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement will take half a day to review this matter, and I will sign the investigation form tomorrow night, agreeing to the investigation by the Auror Office."

Having said this, he paused and laughed for a long time before continuing, "And the day after tomorrow morning, the Ministry of Magic will hold an election meeting for the new minister."

"You, Rufus Scrimgeour, will be the new Minister for Magic."

"And I, Pius Thicknesse, will be your successor as Head of the Auror Office."

Scrimgeour gritted his teeth. "You will not be Head of the Auror Office. I will not let you be..."

"You?" Thicknesse smiled and interrupted with a wave of his hand. "Of course, the Minister does have the power, but the Ministry of Magic will not agree."

He took a few steps forward and pointed at his head. "Scrimgeour, I know that there is a little ladybug in the Order of the Phoenix. She has stolen a lot of interesting things and knows how many Death Eaters there are in the Ministry of Magic."

"But I know how many Death Eaters there are in the Ministry better than you do."

"They're going to be very upset if I don't become Head of the Auror Office, if I don't take the position of head of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry."

"Their safety requires the protection of someone who knows them well and who also knows them well."

"And I am the only candidate."

Scrimgeour stared at him and clenched his fists. He had been thinking about becoming the Minister of Magic for more than a year, but at this moment when he was about to succeed, he no longer wanted to be the Minister of Magic and only wanted to stay in the position of Head of the Auror Office.

Thicknesse patted him on the shoulder and explained softly, "After I became the head of the Auror Office, after a week of investigation, I will announce that Baird Nott committed suicide. As a Death Eater, he remained loyal to the Dark Lord until his death. Putting aside his position, this is actually something worthy of respect."

"Isn't it?"