Chapter 60: Holiday Ends!
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as a core department directly under the Ministry of Magic, the highest coordinating agency of the law enforcement system, has several secondary departments internally:
Auror’s Office, coordinating the detection of magical crime cases across the territory, detention of suspects, and execution of Wizengamot trial procedures;
Wizengamot Affairs Office, managing law formulation and policy deliberation;
Striker Reconnaissance Team, responsible for approving and issuing special operation permits for Auror forces, combating dark magic forces that threaten wizard safety…
Although the above departments have enormous authority, and during special periods can even coordinate and manage other Ministry of Magic departments, since the fall of the Dark Lord, nearly ten years of peaceful days have passed, and the most urgent task carried out last year was just handling a minor magic leak case:
An old witch’s relic tea set was resold to a Muggle antique shop, causing an accident to the female Muggle who bought the tea set and her relatives and friends. The Auror’s Office recovered the tea set and cooperated with the Obliviator to mitigate the incident’s impact, and the remaining cleanup work was handed over to the Office for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts for investigation and handling.
Originally just a minor violation of the Secrecy Law regulations, but the director of the Office for the Misuse of Magic, Umbridge, stirred up trouble, and after taking credit from Weasley and others, she was still not satisfied, attempting to reclassify the case as a major violation of the Secrecy Law, a crisis incident seriously threatening the survival safety of British wizards…
Fortunately, the Wizengamot Members were not deceived by her and upheld the original verdict, allowing them to have a peaceful Christmas holiday.
Kingsley Shacklebolt took a sip of beer and sighed softly.
“If Umbridge finds out about the Memory Projection Mirror, it will probably stir up another farce…”
Not only this Auror had similar thoughts, but also the star reporter in the corner, the Daily Prophet’s specially invited contributing wizard, Rita Skeeter.
This witch sat alone at the back round table, her hairstyle extremely elaborate, with a head of blonde hair fixed into stiff and strange wavy curls, making her wide-jawed face look particularly awkward, a pair of jeweled glasses perched on her nose bridge, and fingers with bright red nail polish holding a glass of gin and tonic, sipping it in small mouthfuls.
As the most outstanding reporter and writer in the country and even the world, she knew all the current high-ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic. Dolores Umbridge, who was promoted to office director before age 30 and became a real power figure in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was one of her key observation targets.
Always wearing pink cardigans and frilly skirts, fond of pink maiden ornaments, loving fat bow-wearing big tabby cats—these were personal preferences easily gleaned from simple observation, crude and useless.
More importantly, this director was domineering and arrogant in private, self-righteous, keen on controlling subordinates, flattering superiors, and skilled at manipulating matters to develop in the direction she desired.
This was similar to herself, but her own methods were more elegant and secretive, while that office director manipulated power crudely and vulgarly, often incurring the disgust of colleagues.
Skeeter had already investigated clearly: Umbridge always boasted of being born into the pure-blood Selwyn family in Wiltshire, but in reality, her mother was a frivolous and slovenly Muggle, her father merely a janitor cleaning at the Ministry of Magic, and there was also a Muggle-born brother at home.
This Lady Umbridge could be considered hardworking, but with limited ability; her successive promotions were entirely due to insincere flattery of superiors, stealing credit from other colleagues, and slandering wizards with minor mistakes as serious criminals.
Skeeter had already prepared a complete and comprehensive personal biography for her, just waiting for Umbridge to fall or retire. If she could later be promoted to Minister, that would be even better; the biography’s bestseller status would rise another level, and then the star reporter’s name would spread throughout the entire British Wizarding World, rivaling adventurer Gilderoy Lockhart.
“Perhaps I can give her another achievement…”
Skeeter raised her heavily drawn eyebrows.
On the round table in front of her was a crocodile skin handbag, a green quick-quotes quill flying rapidly across the parchment, leaving a string of fluent sentences:
This projection mirror appears to be a complete magical creation, but any wizard with rudimentary Muggle Studies knowledge can discover that it imitates Muggle television. The author does not wish to explore the profound intentions hidden behind such imitation. As long as one observes slightly, they can find that the projection mirror’s influence is like a large net, quietly enveloping the entire British Wizarding World, urgently awaiting insightful wizards to step forward…
…
The next day, the day of returning to work.
London Whitehall, deep underground.
The Prime Minister’s office had not fully resumed operations, affairs were idle, allowing Kingsley to have time to return to the Ministry of Magic and attend the early morning meeting of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement after the holiday.
Greenish flames continuously rose from the fireplaces outside the circular hall, wizards arriving by Apparition always producing crisp air cracks. Staff from various departments had mostly returned to work, hundreds of male and female wizards with chaotic footsteps, carrying the listless expressions unique to post-holiday returns.
The Golden Elevator carried staff to various departments. Except for the interrogation rooms on the bottom floor and the Department of Mysteries, other floors gradually became lively.
“Second floor, Department of Magical Law Enforcement…”
Many wizards found this female voice too cold, but Kingsley thought it was good, more fitting the wizarding government’s temperament.
Walking straight out of the elevator through the corridor, turning right at the end of the road, pushing open two heavy oak main doors led to the Auror’s Office. Though called an office, it was actually an open area divided by wooden planks; ordinary Aurors worked in the compartments, and further ahead was the meeting room.
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement held early morning meetings after every holiday, with representatives from each internal office attending to report cases handled by on-duty staff during the holiday—mostly cases of drunk wizards using magic to send themselves or their relatives and friends to St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. It had been ten years without any trouble.
Entering the meeting room, Kingsley’s gaze swept around. The meeting hadn’t started, the attending staff were mostly present, only Umbridge and Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, were missing. He greeted his colleagues softly, but instead of sitting next to his direct superior Rufus Scrimgeour, he sat with the intern Auror recording the meeting.
At the end of the round table sat a cheeky and lively witch with a head of bright pink hair, her dark shiny eyes darting around, scrutinizing this captain without politeness.
Nymphadora Tonks grinned: “Captain, you’re here.”
“Mm.”
Kingsley glanced at her notebook, which had a little pink person drawn blowing bubblegum bubbles. This superior chuckled lightly: “How’s the Auror training course?”
Tonks sighed, her expression melancholic: “Awful, failed the stealth section twice in assessments. Mad-Eye says he could spot me with one eye closed.”
“Which eye closed? Keeping that magical eye would be unfair?”
“That’s what I asked too.” Tonks agreed deeply. “Then in the rotation segment, he assigned me to be an assistant under that pink toad. Mad-Eye said as long as I stay in Umbridge’s office for three months, Merlin will let me pass the stealth test.”
Kingsley laughed: “I agree with his opinion. Your most important work for the next three months is to try not to attract Umbridge’s attention.”
“Today is probably doomed. After the meeting, I still have to report work to her alone.”
Tonks flipped a page in her notebook, neatly written with holiday-accumulated affairs: Willy Widdershins cast magic on a Muggle public toilet seat, causing a Muggle’s buttocks to be bitten into seven pieces; a batch of antique furniture flowed out from Knockturn Alley, suspected to be stolen goods fenced by dark wizards…
All trivial matters, but the last item caught Kingsley’s eye: 「 Star Reporter Skeeter reports: Memory Projection Mirrors appearing in taverns across areas, suspected to imitate Muggle products, possibly producing uncontrollable influence… 」
The handwriting was fresh, as if added this morning. Kingsley withdrew his gaze, lost in thought.
Last night at the tavern, he also thought Umbridge might make an issue of this new thing. During idle chat with Old Tom, he learned it was a novelty created by a Hogwarts professor.
Considering Dumbledore’s relationship, he decided to first help this professor, and later communicate with the headmaster.
Thus, the Auror captain and intern Auror began chatting idly.
“Tonks, Umbridge was recently promoted. Do you think she has fully taken over the Office for the Misuse of Magic?”
“Well… though I hate this person, honestly, she’s managing it pretty well.”
“No, Tonks. If she had fully taken over the office, things wouldn’t be just ‘pretty well.’ With Umbridge’s character of desperately grabbing credit, her meddling in specific affairs would only turn the Department of Magical Law Enforcement into chaos. Remember the last minor incident with the magic tea set leak? It was her spreading rumors, making wizards everywhere discuss how the Wizarding World was in peril…” Kingsley’s voice was calm and steady. “Do you want to see her continue like this?”
“Of course not, Captain. What do I need to do?”
“Don’t report matters that can’t be classified yet to her, and don’t let her see those baseless news.”
“What if she asks? What if she wants to see it herself?”
“Remember your stealth practice? If you don’t want to be discovered, you need more conspicuous things around to attract the target’s attention. Make Umbridge too busy to notice other things—fill her schedule, give her work to do, make her review documents, patrol around. She likes recounting her achievements, so let her spend time dealing with the Minister, pure-blood families, reporters…”
Receiving guidance from the senior Auror captain, intern assistant Tonks was deeply shocked inside and hurriedly noted down the key points on the parchment.
Is this Muggle political wisdom?
Learned it, learned it…
…
Hogwarts also returned to school today.
Hermione was organizing her luggage in the dormitory.
She changed into new pajamas, took out her spring and summer wizard robes from the box, hung them on hangers and put them in the wardrobe. Finally, only some candy and a few tubes of medical toothpaste remained in the box—Christmas gifts for her roommates, and for the professors. Her father and mother said she could make friends at the new school and needed to thank those who helped her.
The 12-year-old little witch sighed silently.
It was convenient for her roommates; she could give them out when she returned in the evening.
How to give to Professor McGonagall and Professor Levent?
And which normal student gives toothpaste as a gift?
“Sigh…”
With complex feelings, Hermione left the dormitory, went downstairs to the Great Hall for the opening feast.
…
The carefully decorated Christmas tree in the Great Hall had been moved to the courtyard, surrounding the frozen center fountain. Some holly branches and ribbons remained on the dome and corridors, making the school suddenly lively.
After a fairly long Christmas holiday, the students were full of anticipation for the new term, excitedly discussing holiday events.
“My distant aunt visited our house this year. Unexpectedly, a French witch knew Harry’s name. Do you know why?”
“Why why?”
“Because The Three Broomsticks was showing footage of their match!”
“And The Leaky Cauldron too, it was on the newspaper front page. My dad and grandpa went every evening to watch, and got beaten by my grandmother for it.”
“…”
At the high table, Melvin flipped through the Daily Prophet with interest. Special reporter Rita Skeeter, to stir emotions, had some biased writing, but certain paragraphs indeed hit key points. This illegal Animagus hadn’t systematically studied communications, but her professional experience had accumulated some near-instinctive intuitions.
Perhaps he could find her to help publicize something in the future.
While thinking about cooperating with the reporter, several high-year students approached— all Quidditch players, led by Cedric, grinning as they stood in front: “Professor Levent, we’re here to thank you.”
“Oh? Thank me for what?” Melvin closed the newspaper.
“Thanks to Professor your projection mirror, many team managers saw our match footage and sent trial invitations.” Cedric explained briefly. “Me, Rowena Ravenclaw’s Roger, Godric Gryffindor’s Captain Wood, and Slytherin’s Flint…”
Flint was Slytherin’s captain, burly with buck teeth, looking unfriendly. At this moment, he tried hard to squeeze a smile at the professor, still looking a bit scary.
Though they lost to Gryffindor in that match, his rough and wild tactics caught the eye of the Argentine team, saying it fit their strangle tactics well, inviting him to join the youth national team for trials.
“We all thank the professor very much.”
“It’s your own excellent Quidditch skills.”
Melvin smiled as he learned about their situations, advised them to study well now and consider professional careers after graduation, and conveniently got contact info for several teams.
Watching the students return to the house table, his gaze turned to the sides. Hagrid was whispering with Professor Kettleburn, the other three deans chatting and laughing about teams changing broomsticks. Only Professor Snape sat alone on the side, and Professor Quirrell was still absent.
Melvin looked up at the magical dome. Tonight was moonless and windy—not good weather.
Dumbledore noticed his concern and turned to him: “Don’t worry. I’ve already spoken with the centaur elders and unicorn leaders. The centaurs patrol the Forbidden Forest every night; the unicorns are safe.”
“What about Quirrell?”
“Only let Harry and them speed up the investigation…”
Dumbledore pondered briefly, looking sincerely into his eyes: “Need a professor to secretly help guide their investigation. Who do you think is suitable?”
Melvin couldn’t read his gaze, turned away, just in time to see three first-year students at the Gryffindor long table huddled together talking.
The little witch frowned, seemingly complaining that the two boys only knew to play and hadn’t found any clues all holiday.
The other two students who stayed at school looked helpless but couldn’t refute.
