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Chapter 3: Clean-up Crews and Voldemort

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"SCRUB HARDER!"

Fudge had been running a tighter ship around the Ministry. Yes sir, there was no way a deadly virus would attack him, that's for sure... at first, Fudge had hired a team of teenage wizards to clean the halls and offices, particularly his own, as a summer job. The teens, however, became a nuisance, screaming, "Scourgify!" at everything that moved, and some teens tried flirting with Linda in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, which caused an incident with Frank, who usually occupied the space doing the same thing. Even boyish Ludo couldn't stand having cries of "Scourgify!" interrupt his daily commentary and announcements.

Apparently, Fudge couldn't take hearing the constant, "Scourgify!" every time one of them ran past Ludo (Ludo's voice carried over every office, every nook and cranny in the building, including Fudge's office). The Ministry employees noticed that the number of teenage wizards had decreased as quickly as it had increased: in a matter of a week.

The next tactic Fudge attempted was sending every house-elf available to clean everything. Some employees, however, had joined Hermione's S.P.E.W. (an elf-rights group), and boycotted the use (or as they put it, misuse) of house-elves. Fudge eventually took away the house elves.

But Fudge's latest tactic was the worst yet. He had every employee scrubbing the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the workspace... common Muggle cleaning, no magic. He claimed it would be more thorough. He implemented new rules, also:

1. Each employee must wash their hands... EVERY HOUR, ON THE HOUR

2. Each employee must wear a protective suit EVERY DAY and have it washed EVERY DAY

3. Each employee must scrub their workspace after entering or leaving.

It had come down to this- the replacement of magic with Muggle labor. Fudge was clearly obsessed.

Dumbledore, since he was on summer break, came down to visit Fudge. He entered the Ministry gracefully. He planned to talk with Fudge about how the search for the anti-virus for the flu was going, only to find that 50, maybe 60 wizards and witches were on their knees in protective suits, scrubbing away like Muggles.

Dumbledore suppressed a laugh. My, my, this was strange. But so predictable. Fudge's paranoia had taken over.

"Excuse me," said Dumbledore politely to a scrubbing wizard, "can you tell me where Fudge is?"

"You'll hear him soon enough-" the wizard said, interrupted by a command, "WEATHERBY, SCRUB HARDER, I SAY! HARDER!"

Dumbledore looked at Fudge. He was fidgeting his lime-green bowler, looking positively freaked out. Yup, he was paranoid, alright.

"Hello, Fudge."

"D-d-dumbled-dore. H-how p-p-pleasant," Fudge fidgeted nervously.

"I came to talk with you about the flu."

When Fudge heard the word "flu", he jumped back nearly five feet onto a poor witch trying to scrub the floor.

"S-so sorry, dear," muttered Fudge, picking himself up. Dumbledore grinned at Fudge.

"If I didn't know better, Fudge, I would say you were more afraid of the flu than Voldemort." Fudge nearly had a heart attack when he heard both "the flu" and "Voldemort" in the same sentence, again landing on the poor witch scrubbing.

"That's-that's preposterous, silly even, Dumbledore," smiled Fudge unconvincingly, "why would I be afraid of a silly little invisible virus that could kill me?"

"Exactly my thoughts, Fudge. Well, I learned that there is a flu vaccine- an anti-virus- and it still exists. I'm sure we can get it if we go to a Muggle hospital to be immunized... meaning, of course, that the flu could not affect you. However, there's not enough to go around, so if we can get a Muggle doctor to give us a sample, I'm sure we can duplicate it."

Fudge, at the prospect of being invincible to the invisible menace, agreed it would be the best solution.

"How do we get a hold of it?"

"Well, by simply attaining a Muggle doctor. The flu is the least of the Muggle world's worries, as it is a rather common illness, so I'm sure it'd be simple to find a doctor. I could even ask one of my Muggle-born students whose parent is a doctor if the parent would give us the vaccine."

There was a silence.

"Ok, Dumbledore. No tricks, though!"

"No tricks. Speaking of no tricks, Fudge, I recommend that these poor wizards and witches return to life as normal here in the Ministry. When I said 'exercise cleaner habits', I meant washing your hands and such, not get on your knees and scrub... though it does provide a laugh. Good day." Dumbledore left the Ministry, eyes glowing in delight, but also with purpose.

Meanwhile...

"Wormtail, come closer," said a slightly wheezy voice.

The one called Wormtail came to his ill master.

"Y-y-yes, m-master?" he squeaked in fear of his master.

"It would seem that this weakness of mine only makes me stronger." His master let out a weak cough, followed by a sniff.

"What do you mean, m-master?"

Voldemort smiled. "This disease I have has caused much panic in the wizard world. If you have heard about Fudge, that imbecile at the Ministry, the thought about me, the most powerful wizard alive, catching a common Muggle illness, scared him nearly to death. He has all his employees scrubbing floors, all because I had a few coughs and sneezes." He sniffed. "This is going better than expected, Wormtail. Much better... you aren't going to leave me yet, Wormtail? Crucio!" he watched the writhing Wormtail with pleasure. Perhaps Harry would be next... no, not perhaps. He would be next if all went according to plan...