Vernon Dursley’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Rufus Scrimgeour standing on his doorstep. The burly, beefy man looked even more imposing in his gray suit and intimidating demeanor. His stance was rigid, as if he could ward off unwanted visitors with sheer bluster.

Rufus met his gaze steadily, his sharp blue eyes unyielding. “I’m here to see Harry Potter.”

Vernon’s surprise was evident, his eyes widening slightly. “Potter? What’s this about?” His voice was a mixture of confusion and apprehension, clearly unsettled by the sight of a man who radiated authority.

“I have official business with him,” Rufus replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for ambiguity. “It’s important.”

Vernon hesitated, clearly torn between his aversion to the magical world and the undeniable presence of the Minister of Magic. His eyes flicked nervously towards the living room, as if seeking some unseen ally or refuge from this unwelcome intrusion.

Rufus sensed the hesitation and decided to assert his presence. Drawing on his magic, he subtly increased his aura. It wasn’t a spell so much as an exercise of willpower; Rufus focused his magical energy, projecting an invisible but palpable sense of authority. The air around him seemed to crackle with an almost tangible force, creating a subtle but undeniable pressure.

The change was immediate. The atmosphere in the hallway grew heavier, the very air seeming to hum with a faint resonance. The light from the hallway fixtures dimmed slightly, casting elongated shadows that danced unsettlingly on the walls. The pressure of his presence was such that it felt like the walls themselves were closing in, amplifying the sense of unease.

Vernon’s bravado faltered. The shift in the air and the intensity of Rufus’s presence were enough to make him visibly recoil. His face paled, and he took a hesitant step back. “Alright, alright. Come in,” he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He stepped aside, allowing Rufus entry.

As Rufus stepped into the house, he was struck by the ordinariness of the interior. The furnishings were simple but well-kept, with floral patterns and a general air of utilitarianism. The decor was unremarkable, with beige walls adorned with mundane family photographs and minimalistic knick-knacks. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Ministry or the magical world he was accustomed to.

Petunia Dursley, drawn by the commotion, appeared at the top of the stairs. Her angular features were set in a frown, her eyes narrowed with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her attire was impeccably neat, reflecting her obsession with order.

“Who is it, Vernon?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Vernon, still visibly shaken, glanced at Petunia. “It’s—uh—someone important,” he managed, his voice lacking its usual firmness.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Petunia descended the stairs, her gaze fixed on Rufus with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. “Who are you?” she demanded, her tone cold and authoritative.

Rufus, sensing that the time for subtlety had passed, decided to reveal his identity. “I am Rufus Scrimgeour, the current Minister of Magic,” he announced, his voice carrying the weight of his official position.

Petunia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Minister?” she echoed, clearly taken aback. She turned to Vernon, her expression one of disbelief. “He’s like our version of the Prime Minister,” she said, her voice barely containing her shock.

Vernon, for all his bluster and arrogance, was easily cowed by those with genuine power. His face turned a shade of pale that would have made a ghost proud. He quickly moved aside, his bravado melting away in the face of Rufus’s authoritative presence. “Right, right. Come in, then,” he said, his voice strained.

Rufus stepped further into the house, his boots making a muted thud against the carpet. He glanced around, noting the stark contrast between this world and the magical realms he was accustomed to. The Dursleys’ reactions served as a reminder of the power dynamics at play.

“Thank you,” Rufus said, his voice measured and calm. “I’m here to meet Harry Potter.”

Petunia’s gaze flicked nervously between Rufus and her husband. “What exactly do you want with Harry?” she asked, her voice a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Rufus gave a polite nod, his demeanor professional. “That’s a private matter, but rest assured, it is of great importance. I need to speak with him about his future and certain developments that may affect him.”

Petunia looked to Vernon for support, but he merely shrugged, his face a mask of indecision. Finally, he sighed and gestured towards the stairs. “He’s up in his room. I suppose you should go up and see him.”

Rufus nodded in thanks and started up the stairs, each step echoing with the weight of his purpose. The hallway was lined with more mundane decor, a stark contrast to the magical world he was accustomed to. The Dursleys had clearly done their best to keep Harry in a state of subdued normalcy.

As Rufus ascended, he considered the irony of the situation. The Dursleys' attempts to shield Harry from the magical world seemed futile in the face of the Minister’s visit. The weight of his responsibility bore down on him, and he steeled himself for the conversation ahead.

He reached the door to Harry’s room and paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. With a gentle knock, he announced himself. “Mr. Potter, may I come in?”

“Come in,” Harry’s voice called from inside, laced with a mixture of curiosity and cautious wariness.

Rufus opened the door and stepped into the room. Harry looked up from where he sat at a small desk cluttered with schoolbooks, quills, and other belongings. The room was small but tidy, with posters of various magical creatures and sports teams pinned to the walls. It was clear that Harry had made the best of his constrained surroundings.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of Rufus Scrimgeour. The young wizard was dressed in a simple, worn shirt and trousers, his dark hair a bit tousled. There was an air of quiet determination about him, his green eyes reflecting both curiosity and a hint of apprehension.

“You’re the Minister of Magic, right?” Harry asked, his voice barely concealing his apprehension.

“That’s correct,” Rufus said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I’m Rufus Scrimgeour. I’ve come to speak with you about a few important matters.”

Harry’s face showed a flicker of unease. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “Is this about that creature?”

Rufus’s expression shifted slightly, his surprise barely masked. “Creature?” he echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice.

----------------------------------------